Three Nil
by FallenShateiel
Summary: Slash, It's a RonDraco story... very very angst... Ron is a tadbit understatement insane...
1. Default Chapter

_THREE NIL_

_CHAOS- It's just the beginning _

_Every promise that I made I'm rescinding_

_Center mass in the middle of the constant_

_Cry for help- it's debatable_

_The only reason that you love me is I'm hated by all_

_Come o- come see dysfunction_

_I guess we're gonna leave it open for discussion_

_Who am I? And where am I going?_

_Maybe I'm looking in the wrong direction_

_Maybe I'm looking for any direction_

_This is not my war- this is not my fight_

_This is something more- this is not my life_

_(This is not my) Revolution_

_(This is not my) Convolution_

_(This is not my) Expectation_

_(This is not my) Desperation_

_Holed up, scarred and tamed for the hell of it_

_Look at me- I am the glorified malcontent_

_Save me? Save this!_

_All I gotta do is give up and all is forgiven_

_I'm sick of being the butt of a cosmic joke _

_And I don't get the punch line_

_A million people lined up for miles_

_To see the great big mouth shut up and apologize_

_This is not my war- this is not my fight _

_This is something more- this is not my life_

_(This is not my) Revolution_

_(This is not my) Convolution_

_(This is not my) only reason to question why _

_Today, I said goodbye!_

_I'm the pariah (break me)_

_I am the liar (save me)_

_I can take anything (make me)_

_Accuse me of everything (take me)_

_Cut off the system (shape me)_

_Deny me my existence (waste me)_

_I won't be afraid (try me)_

_I won't be unmade (deny me)_

_So come on- break it off_

_Come one- buy the lie_

_Come on- say it, say it_

_Come on_

_Say goodbye!_

_Goodbye!_

_Oh I didn't need to leave to stay right here _

_Today, I said goodbye!_

_Goodbye!_

_- Slipknot_

It is the end of July and already I feel boredom coming to destroy me. I hate this. My best friend is suppose to be my best friend not my rival in all things regarding my right to existence. I could nearly hate him.

I can't help but notice that he seems oblivious to all the attention he gets and I fume over. I am taller than he is, smarter, I am everything he is not. However he is a better flier than I. A better student when it comes to the Defense Against The Dark Arts classes we take. He is the Boy- Who- Lived. Not me.

I'm looking in the mirror and all my flaws are displayed out in full for me to see and accept. But I can't I have bright red hair that brings to light my freckles. I have blue eyes that shine. Tall and lanky. I am not ugly not beautiful at first sight.

At least by what I see. The only girl who has ever mentioned anything to me about my appearance wanted to get Harry's autograph.

My attitude theses days is not very positive. In fact, even my brothers think that I should lighten up. Not one of the several people downstairs can even guess that my unhealthy "attitude" is because of the dark haired orphan they so willingly love.

No.

I love Harry. No one, nor thing can ever change that. We're the closest thing to being real brothers. My own being so difficult and busy body to love me.

I can hear someone coming up the stairs. I want to scream "Go Away!" At the top of my lungs. But deciding against it . I turn to the door, to see Harry beaming. His glasses askew. I know that I should smile in return. But I don't instead I stand there.

His smile fades a bit. "Guess who's here" I know who it is.

"Hermione." My voice is devoid and somewhat cold. I hate playing these stupid games with him.

He's frowning. "Well no need to sound so cheerful about it."

I smile a big fake smile. "OK Like Oh Mi God. Let's Like So Go And See Her!" I can't help myself. It comes as a second nature to me.

He's definitely pissed now. "Why don't you stay up here and be an ass."

Slam.

Sighing I flop onto my bed. I don't care. I'm through being the Push- Over.

Its supper time and I have finally become hungry. So despite all odds, I'm going to venture outside this room in search of some food. It may be impossible but I'm going to try.

I creep down the stairs. Feeling a little giddy. After all that is how I usually get after I spend a day in self- pity that knows no boundaries.

Of course my mother is waiting right in the kitchen to scream at me.

And boy does she scream.

I tune out and think of a little jig I seen on one of the Muggle T.b's or whatever you call them.

That woman knows everything.

By the time she's done the second time. My appetite has died. I feel sad and the feeling of despair has overcome my senses once again. I hate this feeling of helplessness.

"... So what have you to say for yourself!" She looks murderous.

I look straight in her eye. "I'm tired" Such a statement is asking for a death sentence.

I turn while she purples and walk up the stairs ready to stare at the wall and wait for the numbness to take over once more.

Hermione is in the room by the time I wake up. I don't want to talk to her. But friending sleep is impossible to her and Harry. So instead I open my eyes and start to count the cracks in the ceiling.

I get to 70 by the time she starts to talk. "So do you plan to lie in bed all day again?"

I like to be silent when people ask me this,

The silence dominates over us, while my insides wrench painfully.

So I think of this song that I once heard. Rather lovely in my own opinion.

_SEE THE SUN_

_I'm coming round to open the blinds _

_You can't hide here any longer_

_My god you need to rinse those puffy eyes_

_You can't lie still any longer_

_And yes they'll ask you where you've been _

_And you'll have to tell them again and again._

_And you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day_

_But I promise you you'll see the sun again_

_And you're asking why pain's the only way to happiness_

_And I promise you you'll see the sun again._

_- Dido_

I make the connection to the song to what Hermione is trying to do. I know that they sent her up here because they think that I have been infatuated with here. A crush that should be noticed. But not anymore. I don't want to think of what could've been. And what has been lost. Hermione is no longer someone I associate with love.

I feel nothing for no one. And the thing that baffles me most is that everyone thinks that I still feel that fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach. I realize now that I never honestly liked Hermione. Just felt a possessiveness that I cannot explain.

My eyes fall close again. Fatigue that cannot be explained has taken over. I want to scream. But instead I fall into the dark abyss that is my mind.

Waking up I feel sick. Hot and tired at the same time. I move to get up. But I can't. My arm is not moving. My breathing is becoming laboured. I want to scream. But I refuse to bow down before this. This- whatever this is.

I finally jerk bad enough that I fall to the floor. But the floor is covered with snakes. Snakes that want to get into my head and destroy what little balance I have left. I allow the scream to escape.

Footsteps and screams are all around me. I can't stop screaming. My fear of despair has come back in full form. I want to die. I want to fall into oblivion and forever stay underwater looking up into the ripples of the water.

I want to die.

Hands are around my body. Shading and cradling me as I continue to scream in agony.

I want to die.

I stop. I see a man dying in the street. He's old and brittle. Kneeling over and no longer breathing. I want to help him. But I can't. No one can.

I can feel the warmth of the person whose holding me. I feel the coldness of my hands. The horror that has filled my heart.

I don't know what is happening. All I know is that the someone whose holding me is not my mother, not my father. But my brother, the one whose suppose to be gone. Percy.

The last time that my brother held me like this was when that little boy whom had been my friend , drowned in that lake his parents took us. I wonder if he remembers how badly I cried in his arms when it happened. I wonder if the nightmares still plague him the way that they plague me at night.

I can hear the song he's whispering in my ear.

"_...when the cold of Winter comes_

_starless night will cover day_

_in the veiling of the sun_

_we will walk in bitter rain_

_but in dreams_

_I still hear your name_

_and in dreams_

_We will meet again_

_when the seas and mountains fall_

_And we come to end of days_

_In the dark I hear a call_

_Calling me there_

_And back again..."_

The last time I heard that song, was the same day I lost that happiness that came so naturally. I don't want to think on it. So instead I hum the tune. I remember how much I once loved my brother and how much we loved the family. I remember the times that the world seemed to fall silent during the times we both were at peace. The poorness of our family was non- existent, because we would go outside and he would try to answer my questions about life with words that could not accurately describe it.

I clutch at his chest hoping that the world would go still if he allowed it. As soon as he is done with the song I launch into a poem I learned during my desperation.

_I AM_

_I am- yet what I am, none come or know;_

_My friends forsake me like a memory lost_

_I am the self- consumer of my woes;_

_They rise and vanish in oblivion host_

_Like shadows in lover frenzied stifled throes;_

_And yet I am, and live- like vapours toss't_

_Into the nothingness of scorn and noise-_

_Into the living sea of waking dreams; _

_Where there is neither sense of life or joy_

_But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;_

_Even the dearest, that I love the best_

_Are strange- way, rather, stranger than the rest_

_I long for the scenes where man hath never tried_

_A place where woman never smiled or wept_

_There to abide with my Creator, God._

_And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept_

_Untroubling, and untroubled where I lie_

_The grass below- above the vaulted sky_

_-John Clare_

It doesn't matter if anyone can understand that because I know that Percy will. He always did. Whether or not he truly did, I do not know. All I know is that he will try to understand.

I allow him to hold me still.

I don't know how long we stayed that way. His arms holding me as though I were about to fall.

After a long while I allow his attempt to get me back on my bed. Everyone has disappeared. He's gentle, in the way people are gentle when they don't want to break something.

I miss him as my Big Brother Percy. Instead he had become just 'Percy' with nothing gained.

I notice that his eyes are desperately searching mine for some sort- of assurance.

I smile.

"Stay here, until I fall asleep." That is all I am able to give.

He smiles and nods. Getting on the bed, shifting into a position where I would be lying on his lap.

In doing so, I realize that after the little boy drowned, this was the only way I slept for several months. Percy being the only one I could stand touching me without screaming tot he point blood would rise to my face.

I wake- up. The dream I just experienced, I found horrendous. A graveyard of dragon skeletons. Griffins tearing the flesh off a fresh carcass.

Percy is still asleep.

Getting up reluctantly, I feel the need of a shower. It doesn't matter what time it is. All that really matters is that I get cleaned, and fresh enough to eat and go for a long awaited walk.

The shower itself is europhia. It seems as though I'd just spent the last year in the wilderness and this is my first time that I've had a chance to be cleaned.

I feel a little better. The steam fogging up the mirror in a sort- of 'thank god' way.

Getting dressed I notice that either my clothes have stretched or my body has lost weight.

Stomach rumbles.

Eating seems like a past- time activity. An essential activity however. I swallow and take bigger bites. My jaw hurting. My stomach slowly filling.

I finally finish. The sky outside has become light.

Leaving the house I begin to debate whether or not to leave a note.

Not.

I'm walking a road, that I have walked a thousand times before. I'm going farther and farther from the wretched house nicknamed 'The Burrow'. Its ruins, I am no longer able to see.

'Ye nearly made yer ma dead o' a hear' attack." The voice seems to be bodiless. Bending, touring slightly to the left I see a figure that is familiar.

I sigh, "Hello, Mundungus."

His drunken grin greets me back.

"Runnin' o' way?"

I shake my head.

"Nah, just walking." I gesture to the road.

The look he's giving me is calculating.

"Ye best be getting 'some shouldn't we."

I nod.

"Good I'll walk with ye. That way Molly will be a little distracted." I laugh, despite myself.

The walk is mostly quiet. Mundungus sometimes chuckling about some new inventions for the 'Weasley Wheezes."

As we neared the Burrow I could see in the distance figures flying on brooms. A longing weld up inside me.

_"...The clouds overhead so white._

_Sky so blue_

_My nerve conceals me._

_To go amongst the stars_

_To see the world, for all its wonders..."_

Its been a week, and no one seems fit to bring into inquiry the incidents that have been caused by me.

Percy, whom disowned the family believing, that we've fallen form grace, is here welcomed with open arms. My mother spends hours on catching up with him, falling into a loving mother role every few minutes. Percy tolerates it with small smiles. Fred and George are rather bitter at him. Playing pranks and remarking on how much money they've made through their 'Weasley Wheezes.' Percy never rises to their baiting.

My father and Percy are still formal. My father being the one still hurt from comments made a year ago. Harry and Hermione avoid Percy, along with Ginny, Charlie and Bill.

Than there is me. Ronald, the ghost living upstairs.

I love him. My older brother.

I'm lying on my bed when he comes in. feeling his weight on the end bed, I turn to see him staring at me.

Remarkable, how much we look alike. Yet definite features are unique to each of us. The way dignity overthrows his face. While a cynical humour overrules my own facial features.

"Fred and George want me gone." He's leaving.

I sit up fast, dizzy, grab his wrist.

"You can't... I ....I need you here..." I don't know how to put into words what his leaving would do to me.

He smiles, a sad smile. Shaking his head.

"I can't be trusted..."

"I DON'T CARE!"

I'm breathing heavily. The anger being something I don't need.

I hate this feeling. I hate being so emotional.

It makes me feel as though I cannot control even a small aspect of my life. Instead its reeling out of control. A panic rises that I cannot explain.

Percy is no longer smiling. The look in his eyes is maddening.

"Ron. Do you know what day it is?" How detached he seems from me.

I don't answer.

He continues. "Do you know what has been going on in the world?" Curious that is what he is.

I let go of his wrist. Only to have him grab onto mine.

Pulling me close to him. Looking straight into his blue eyes.

"Do you even realize what is happening to you?" His voice is soft.

Tears well up into my eyes. I choke out. "No."

Fred and George choose that exact moment to apparate into the room.

Seeing me crying and Percy clutching at my wrist, they naturally just to conclusions.

I don't even listen as the yelling starts. Not until the wands are pulled out.

They are just standing there. Not seeming to care what happens.

I bring my knees up to my chin and start to sing to myself.

"_... Walk with me my little child, _

_to the forest of denial,_

_speak with me my only mind,_

_walk with me until the time,_

_and make the forest turn wine,_

_you take a legend for a fall,_

_you saw the product, _

_why, can't you see you are my child,_

_why don't you know that you are my mind,_

_tell everyone in the world, that I'm you,_

_take this promise to the end of you,_

_walk with me my little friend _

_take this promise to the end _

_speak with me my only mind _

_walk with me until the end _

_and make the forest turn to sand _

_you take the legend for a fall _

_you saw the product._

_Why, can't you see you are my child_

_why, don't you know that you are my mind_

_tell everyone in the world, that I'm you _

_take this promise to the end of you_

_take this promise for a ride_

_you saw the product of it all _

_no televisions in the air _

_no circumcisions on the chair _

_you made the weapons for us all_

_just look at us now_

_why can't you see that you are my child _

_why don't you know you are my mind _

_tell everyone in the world, that I'm you _

_take this promise to the end of you..."_

_-SOAD_

George is staring at me with shock.

I look up at Percy. Whose giving me one of his sad looks. I look away.

"I'm going for a walk."

I like to walk these days. It makes the world more tranquil.

Percy is right to ask those questions, because I don't even remember what the date is, or why I have to be the one going crazy.

It should be Harry. He's lost everything, his parents, his godfather. He's the most hunted down kid in the world. While I. Am.

Nothing.

There is nothing extraordinary about me. The world offers nothing to me. I get no condolences. I am that I am, nothing but Ron Weasley. Another redhead.

We're going to Diagon Alley, where the Twins will try vainly to apologize by buying me things. Where Harry and Ginny plan to cheer me up with stupid pranks they find. Where Mom and Dad hope to find some way to get me to eat and speak. I miss Percy to the depths of my core.Why?

No matter who asks me that , i can never honestly answer.

Everything is perfect to everyone, making me want to gag.

Until Malfoy showed up. Standing in the tailor shop as I entered to get refitted.

In fact I hadn't noticed him for the first five minutes. Dazed I was staring out of the window by the time I hear his cold drawl.

"So you finally have money Weasel?"

I start. Turning to look back at him. I say nothing.

Whether or not he notices that my attention is not all focussed on him. I feel a sadness. Not even the sight of him is able to stir the blood in my veins.

He smirks. "Like what you see Weasel?"

i look back into his grey eyes, finding nothing but a winter's chill. I turn my gaze back to the window. Staring at the people rushing past. A hag being pushed by a crowd. I want to go out there and be one of those forgotten faces. With no one to know and no one to care about me.

I notice he;s not saying anything more, as the silence envelopes us. The ladies that pin the cloth together chattering amongst themselves.

I feel something warm touch my shoulder. Startled, I look wide- eyed at the person.

The absent sneer makes the face handsome. The grey eyes still as cold as ice. The pale blonde hair, white in the light. The concern is what makes me cringe.

"They said that you went crazy." His voice is not so mocking.

I swallow. "They?" The eyes are enchanting.

His full red lips frown. "Daily Prophet."

Oh.

I remember what Percy said about not paying any attention to the news.

I cannot seem to stop staring at his lips.

I wonder what a kiss is like. Harry described it as something disgusting.

His hand leaves my shoulder as he backs a few steps away from me.

Dazed I shake my head trying to clear it.

When I look up, I catch him staring at me with his lips parted. We make eye contact.

He quickly pays for his things and leaves.

I hum a little number to myself.

"_... You don't remember me. _

_But I remember you._

_I lie awake and try so hard. _

_Not to think of you._

_But who can decide what they dream?_

_And dream I do..._

_I believe in you._

_I'll give up everything just to find you._

_I have to be with you to live to breathe._

_You're taking over me._

_Have you forgotten all I know._

_And all we had?_

_You saw me mourning my love for you._

_And touched my hand._

_I knew you loved me then._

_I believe in you._

_I'll give up everything just to find you._

_I have to be with you to live to breathe._

_You're taking over me._

_I look in the mirror and see your face._

_If I look deep enough._

_So many thing inside that are_

_Just like you are taking over..."_

_-Evanescence._

Its time to go back to Hogwarts. And as per usual my mother is overemotional. Hugging and kissing a summer of insanity forgotten.

Hermione and I go to the Prefect's cabins, promising Harry that as soon as we can we'll go back to hang out with him.

Malfoy is in the same cabin as us. Along with Pansy Parkinson. I hate them both. Hermione whispers in my ear to 'keep my cool'.

Malfoy has his sneer back on. I don't bother to look at him. Ernie MacMillan soon joins us. Getting Hermione in a long debate on house- elves.

After about fifteen minutes I finally look up. To find Malfoy staring.

Catching his eye, he doesn't turn away. I love his grey eyes. Cold and unyielding. Dark rimmed with a sort- of unearthly look in them. He keeps his eyes steady with mine. I feel something strange happening.

My stomach is groaning.

I break off my stare and look down at my stomach. Than I laugh. The laugh is of relief. I'm hungry.

Hermione lets out a small giggle. I turn towards her and start to tickle her. Peals of laughter escape her, ringing with my own.

Standing up I declare in aloud to all whom remain stunned.

"I AM HUNGRY!"

I grin, then take off in search of nourishment.

I don't care if no one understands the significance of that statement.

I basically attacked the lunch trolley, and waddled back tot he cabin. Hermione and Ernie as well as Parkinson have already left. Leaving only Malfoy and I.

Dropping my treasures on the seat opposite of him. I ask.

"Where the hell did everyone go?" I don't really care, but it seemed appropriate to ask.

He shrugs and looks at my bounty.

"Hungry?"

I laugh. "After two months of not eating. I think I should be."

I tuck into eating. Offering Malfoy some. He says 'No' and leans back to watch me glut myself.

Finally I open up 'Bertie Botts.'

His cold voice sends shivers up my spine.

"I'll have one of those." I hold up the box for him. Still on the floor.

Leaning towards me, forcing me to give him my full attention he takes one. Putting it slowly in his mouth. Allowing me to see his tongue. My passion becoming too much to handle.

Picking up a Cockroach Cluster I break it in half. He opens his mouth and begins to eat it.

All the while he eats to it out of my hand, our eyes never break contact.

When he's done, he licks my fingers. Wet and hot.

I've become uncomfortably aroused. Near painfully.

I like my lips. He leans back, watching me indifferently.

"Still hungry?" Cold and uncaring.

I say nothing and get up to stumble out of the cabin.

"_...He hasn't any enemy in the world_

_and none of his friends like him."_

_- Oscar Wilde_

Its been two weeks. Harry has become Quidditch Captain. And I swear he's the craziest one yet.

Malfoy hasn't come up to me. Still throwing nasty insults at Harry and Hermione. He seems to have forgotten about me. Though no one has noticed but me.

I find it rather entertaining. Watching him, watching me. The way his eyes want me, not one of my so called 'friends'.

I want to open my arms and beckon to him. That is if it is me, Ron he only wants. I shall be his. Utterly and totally. No one locking us out of our love.

That is, if he loves me.

Only me.

"So what do you think of Professor Flitwick's idea that'll boast moral for our school?:" Lavender and Parvati haven't shut- up since breakfast.

"I think it'll be great." How charming stupid freakin' Harry Potter is.

How can he not see hoe they bat their eyes at him?

Disgusting.

I continue to do my work. Not at all concerned with anything.

Especially this Dance.

Flitwick's brilliant idea that in order to bring back the school's spirit, we have a Dance equivalent too the Yule Ball two years back. The girl's are all excited, same with the guy's. Though they tend to not squeal about it.

"Who are you going to ask Ron?" Harry says making sure Hermione is listening. I want to roll my eyes. Shrugging "Dunn, might no even go." I really don't.

Harry frowns. He's obvious with his impatience with me.

"Well don't wait too long this time." Hes says it too happily as though I were a 2 year-old child who needed to be chided for bad table manners.

Grabbing my books I get up to leave. I half- way expected someone to ask if I were offended by something.

No one did.

They'll go on for hours forgetting that I graced the room with them. Harry being their focus.

And when he's not around? Just ask Ron, he'll know.

_BREAKING THE HABIT_

_Memories consume_

_like opening the wound _

_I'm picking me apart again _

_you all assume _

_I'm safe here in my room_

_(unless i try to start again)_

_I don't want to be the one_

_the battles always choose _

_'cause inside I realize _

_that I'm the one confused_

_I don't know why I instigate_

_and say what I don't mean_

_I don't know how I got this way _

_I know it's not alright_

_so I'm breaking the habit _

_Tonight_

_clutching my cure _

_I tightly lock the door_

_I try to catch my breath again_

_I hurt much more _

_than any time before _

_I had no options left again_

_I'll paint it on the alls_

_'cause I'm the one at fault _

_I'll never fight again _

_and this is how it ends_

_I don't know whats worth fighting for _

_or why I have to scream _

_but now I have some clarity_

_to show you what I mean_

_I don't know how I got this way _

_I'll never be alright _

_So I'm _

_Breaking the Habit _

_Breaking the Habit_

_Tonight._

_-Linkin Park_

I was sharpening my quill when the knife jerked and sliced my finger. The blood shone bright. I was spellbound staring at the dark liquid crimson. The pain felt good and gratifying. I found myself doing it again, and again. Liking the blood, imagining the bitter taste of desperation webbed in it.

It wasn't until my entire hand was covered in deep red marks that I finally came to my senses.

I quickly put the blood stained knife away.

I've been hiding my hand ever since that incident. I don't expect anyone to notice.

Harry wants to go over his Quidditch game plans with me. Ginny gets more into the conversation than I do.

"... Well the new seeker for Hufflepuff is second year, and I've heard she's quite good..." Ginny's eyes are shining with admiration. Harry's emerald green- eyes flash with indignity.

Hermione and Neville come over to sit near us.

I've been doodling on a piece of parchment for the last half- hour. accidentally I push my hair out of my eyes.

With my left hand.

"OMIGOD, Ron what happened to your hand?" Hermione has turned white and shrieky.

"Looks like he pissed off Crookshanks." Harry muses.

I want to roll my eyes at them and declare that I've decided to kill myself.

Hmm... Suicide. Never thought about that.

Dean and Seamus come over, striking and entirely new conversation.

I sit forgotten.

_TOP OF THE WORLD_

_I wished I was smarter_

_I wished I was stronger_

_I wished I loved Jesus _

_The way that my wife does_

_I wish it had been easier _

_Instead of any longer _

_I wished I could have stood where you would have been proud_

_But that won't happen now_

_That won't happen now_

_Chorus:_

_There's a whole lot of singing thats never gonna be heard_

_Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow_

_Think I broke the wings off that little song bird_

_She's never gonna fly to the top of the world right now_

_Top of the world_

_I don't have to answer any of these questions_

_Don't have no God to teach me no lessons_

_I come home in the evening _

_And sit min my chair_

_One night they call me for supper_

_But I never got up_

_I stayed right there in my chair_

_Chorus_

_I wished I'd a known you_

_Wished I'd a shown you _

_All of the things I was on the inside_

_I'd pretend to be sleeping_

_When you come in in the morning_

_To whisper good- bye_

_Go to work in the rain_

_I don't know why_

_Don't know why_

_'Cause everyone's singing _

_We just wanna be heard_

_Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow_

_Wanna grab a hold of that little song bird_

_Take her for a ride to the top of the world_

_To the top of the world._

_-Patty Griffin_

Another week and I've still managed to remain a 'Prefect' and 'Keeper'.

Another week and I've still managed to numb myself to the sense of Doom.

No one cares.

It doesn't surprise me.

I found my own abandoned classroom. Its cold, so I have blankets. Its dark, so I have candles. Pillows and cushions. My own hiding place. I spend hours in here. Not showing up for class, Prefect duties, Quidditch practices. My Despair of Doom amounting.

In silence.

Everyone asks me what is wrong. Caring not for me, but for the Griffyndor reputation.

I shrug and go back to doodling.

I've become quite good.

I cut myself deep enough to cause unbearable pain and leave scars. No one will see them so I'll be OK.

Malfoy and I seem to find ways to walk past each other in the hallways. Most of the time I don't even realize it him unless i walk into him.

"Watch it, Weasel." Is the usual commentary.

All my 'friends' have given up talking to me. So I fall into

Silence.

Today in Herbology I cut myself by accident. I forgot where I was and pressed the knife harder. The skin breaking and that sweet liquid fire gushing out.

I think of it as a darkened beauty. A colour so seductive it has no longer come a mystery to why men die at the sight of such a beauty. Romance that is worth dying for has this as its core root...

"Ron?" Its said with such caution.

But I won't look up to see the warped confusion in those innocent eyes.

Instead I start to think more and more about the folly mortality of life.

What has it given me?

Nothing.

The thoughts are too much for me. Clutching my head with two hands I fall to my knees. Wanting to die, yet knowing nothing about death.

Someone's asking what is the matter.

I hear my voice whisper.

"_...Rein n'est mort que ce qui n'existe pas encore..."_

_-Guillaume_

_...nothing is dead but what has never been..._

I spent the last couple days in Madame Pomphrey's care. It seemed a little strange that she didn't ask any questions regarding mental health.

"He needs a few days rest, and **cannot **be bothered." Her curt voice would say this to my visitors.

I have to admit I do feel a lot better. Insane, but healthy insane.

I'm walking down the stairs, heading to the Commonroom in order to get my missed work from the others.

I'm blinking in mere shock of seeing the blonde- haired cold blooded ferret walking up to me. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he's staring up at me in the most concerned face. The sneer and mockery gone. Not leaving a mark.

Once I get down the stairs and stand over him, he places both his hands on my shoulders and tiptoes to kiss me. His silken lips make me want to... I have not a clue.

I want to touch him. Opening his lips a little, tongue traces his bottom lip, bringing forth a deep throated moan.

Pulling back, he looks dazed, yet alert. I'm still gathering my senses.

"You're still a filthy Mudblood lover." He sounds disdainful.

Laughing I pull him close. "No, just the Madman."

pressing my thumb on his bottom lip our eyes lock.

"I still hate you." He's warm.

"You should smile when you say that."

"Why?" He smells like something that I've never had before.

"Why not?"

Harry and Hermione won't leave me alone. Maybe if they would talk to me, instead of over me I could stomach it better. But they won't and so I am stuck trying to not pound their faces into the ground.

I seem to always find myself thinking and wishing of my little room. Where I can lay or get laid in my cushions. Either one is appealing.

Harry and Hermione walk with some Hufflepuff acquaintances. I drift off.

It's been two months since mine and Malfoy's 'fun' has begun. I remember the first time I dragged him into my hide- away.

_"What the hell is this, Weasel?" Cold and desolate. Just dying to be kissed._

_The way my tongue rummaged his mouth. Kissing and suckling neck. His body willing to submit to me. _

_Stepping away from him I asked the inevitable question._

_"Have you ever done this before?" I sure the hell haven't._

_He smiled apologetically. "Only with a girl."_

_I understood. Stupid me. All I was was an experimentation. Also I realized that I'm rather an ideal one, being that if anyone should ever find out that I'm having a homosexual affair with none other than my best friend's enemy, The notorious Slytherin Draco Malfoy, I would deny it. After all with all the Weasley children, no one will ever question my heterosexuality. So really I am in the clear._

_I hadn't realized that I had turned away from him. His arms wrapping around my waist, his body flat against my back. His moist lips on the back of my neck. _

_"If it matter I'm a virgin in this too." His voice made goosebumps._

_Turning towards him, running my fingers through his pale hair. His delicate features sharpen as I turn him away form me. I whisper in his ear._

_"You better make this good. Otherwise I'll get you back."_

_He laughed._

_The sight of his naked pink fleshed body embarrassed me. His cheeks coloured at my own nakedness. The first uncertain touches, erection admanant. The way he shivered when I ran my fingers over his nipples and upper torso to his tight stomach. Grabbing onto my wrists before I traveled further downward._

_"What?" I was vaguely annoyed._

_He peered into my eyes. "You do realize that it'll hurt more unless we have some sort- of lubrication."...Hmm... I had no idea what he was saying._

_It must've shown on my face. Sighing he explained. "For women the body produces a natural body fluid that makes intercourse enjoyable. However for guys they need a supplements for the absent fluid. Without it intercourse is painful." I stared at him than asked the stupid question._

_"...What kind of fluid do we need?"_

_He stared at me._

_"You mean my saliva!" I was more than shocked. I was stunned._

_He blushed. It took me a couple of moments to recover._

_"OK." The words were croaked. He swallowed and nodded._

_I got down on my knees, while he stood there awkward. The lust gone to be replaced by fear. His organ rather a surprising size. I didn't know exactly what to do._

_"Just put it in your mouth and try not to choke." He instructed._

_I did just that. The taste was rather interesting. And I did nearly choke. But that was his fault, with his hand clutching my hair and his body thrashing towards me. He finally pulled me back._

_"..go...the cushions...." He was panting pretty hard. His organ glistening with my saliva._

_"Oh, but you taste so good!" I teased, leaning to put my mouth back over it._

_He shoved me back. " I SAID GET ON THE FUCKIN' CUSHIONS." His grey eyes darkened and bulged out. His mouth contorted with meanness. I figured it would be best to do as he asked._

_When I did he kissed me, while looking considerably calmer._

_Looking down at me, he told me "Relax... I'm about to hurt you."_

_I nodded and closed my eyes as his lips traveled down my face and then eventually to my naval. I felt what must've been his finger enter me. A gasp was all I did. Kissing my lips he said again. "Relax."_

_After a couple of probes it doesn't hurt anymore. In fact I think I start to moaning at that point. Feeling a pleasure that I couldn't quite understand._

_Than suddenly his fingers were out of me, a definite groan came out of me at their absence._

_Malfoy waited until I opened my eyes to lick off his fingers._

_I made a pathetic half whimper sound. He laughed, crawled up to my face and kissed me. _

_"Lie on your front."_

_When I obliged, he situated himself behind me with his hands on my hips. Spreading my legs apart, a seering pain shot through my entire body._

_I screamed._

_Malfoy ignored it and continued to thrust into me. Moaning and groaning. Hurting me._

_I lay curled in a ball, crying after it was done. Malfoy had gotten up and dressed. Without saying a word, until he reached the door._

_"I did tell you to relax Weasley." No emotion. Nothing._

Even now after two months of that aggressiveness, nothing. And I still can't forgive him. But the pain, pleasure is too good that I cannot deny it. He loves my scars that I leave myself. Often asking if he could do it to me, allow him to taste the blood.

The one thing I will not let him do to me.

The Dance is coming up. But I know better than to ask him.

I thought that we could love each other. That he could be my secret lover.

Alas, that is not meant to be. He wants to own my body. For being Harry Potter's best friend. For being another male. He aggressively hurts me in the beginning and middle of 'fucking' as he so fondly calls it.

No love has he for me, Ron Weasley. And yet I still manage to delude myself that I love him when we are in the same room alone. Hate him at all other times. The bruises he leaves on my body along with his scratches and bites, visible to no one. Colliding with my cuts so perfectly.

Yet at the end, he sometimes allows himself to linger and kiss me. Declaring that I am his and no one else's.

_RISE_

_Rise_

_Throw away_

_The charade of your life_

_Let the flame of my heart_

_Burn away_

_Your complacence tonight_

_I command you to rise_

_Wash away_

_The decay of your life_

_Feel the light of your eyes_

_Find the way_

_Through the darkness tonight_

_Fearing no one_

_Do your really think I covet like you do._

_Chorus:_

_Come, take me away_

_Remove the fear from my eyes_

_Feel the flame of my heart_

_Burning away_

_All conversation tonight_

_Hearing no one_

_Am I precious to you now_

_Now rise_

_Turn away_

_From the shame of your life _

_Feel the light form my eyes_

_Offering _

_Consolation tonight_

_Fearing no one _

_Do you really think I want it like you do_

_Chorus_

_Now, I cannot stop this_

_Pure emotion_

_Falling from my eyes_

_You are indicating_

_Liberating_

_Saviors of my soul_

_-Disturbed_

I watched today as Ernie McMillan asked Hermione to the Dance an hour ago. Once she said 'yes' and he walked away, I could feel nearly everyone in the Great Hall staring at me as I continued to eat. By the time I had finished Hermione had already run away near to tears. Harry is still mad at me, along with everyone else.

However, Malfoy was pleased. I caught his eye for the first time in public. The mockery in his eyes being too much for me.

And so for the past half- hour I've been walking aimlessly around.

I wonder if I should find a new hiding place? Seeing as my old one has become the meeting place for Malfoy and mine's 'fucking' sessions.

I go into an old 'Girls' bathroom. The one that is haunted by Moaning Myrtle.

Dingy and depressing, the leaks and broken tiles making it impossible to stand in one place.

I move to one of the cracked mirrors. Dusty with spider webs. The bright hair and blue eyes. Unchanged, except for the hardness of the eyes.

And if you could the hidden hickey below my collar.

I notice the way that my hair has grown long. But unlike most of the redheads in my family my hair has darkened. I would have never noticed if Malfoy hadn't made a comment on it the other day.

I have to admit that I love being touched by that bastard. The hands that are so perfectly kept. I love the cold way his eyes are, how they bore into my face as I writhe under him. Vulnerable and completely his in those moments where Time doesn't seem to matter. I groan and wriggle violently. I mumble things that make no actual sense.

I love the way no one will ever think once that I could be as self- destructible as I am. Not even Malfoy when he nips at my cuts, making lewd comments can't secretly imagine the torn- up ligaments of sanity.

No. No one can know.

Even the hints that I undoubtedly give does nothing. My lack of notice in the details of things. My slow uptake to emotion. Lack of interest in everything. Including Quidditch.

Staring into this cracked mirror is doing nothing to help me. The grime and cobwebs are doing nothing but add to its ugly charm.

Its strange to know that the cobwebs are not making me anxious.

If I do not have spiders to fear...

Than what do I have?

Malfoy is waiting at the end of the hall for someone.

Yet seeing Parkinson fly into his arms does not manage to make the jealousy boil over in my veins. Instead an iced cold fills my h4eart. I continue on my way, walking past them to the corner, Malfoy's cold grey eyes burning a hole in to my back.

I'm on my way to the library to finally do some homework. Walking into the room I'm still awed after all these years by the magnificance of the books. Lined up with no spaces on the walls. Sunlight pouring on them making the spines shine.

The smell is great.

I have truly gone mad.

Taking out parchment and textbooks I dig around for my quill and ink bottle.

"Here."

I look up into dreamy dazed eyes. The blonde hair making the face seem translucent. Holding out for me a yellow quill and ink bottle. I still am amazed by the way she always looks. Eyebrows pitched to give her a permenently surprised mad person look.

Thanking her I grab the quill and ink bottle, start to do my homework. Consciously aware that she is still watching. Luna LoveGood. Crazier than I am.

I continue to do the Herbology essay on the differences that atmosphere effects the rest poisonous plants.

"Why aren't you at Quidditch practice?" No warning.

"Um... because I'm doing my homework?" She is completely loony.

"Harry's mad at you."

"How'd you know?"

"He's coming right now."

Twisting around I see that she's right. Also registering that he looks as though he's ready to murder me. Scary looking with all that mud on his Quidditch robes.

"RON! Where the hell have you been." He's not looking for an answer.

"Uh... Homewor----"

"I don't care! We have Quidditch practice tonight. Its your fault that you didn't do your homework before." Quite the speech.

I take a deep breathe. "Harry, theres more to life than Quidditch. OK?"

He grabs my arm dragging me to the Pitch.

Everything I say ignored.

"Weasel, Potty having marital problems I see." Eyes that know everything.

Harry turns toward the voice. His rage at me throwing his anger out of proportion.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up Malfoy. After all I'm amazed that you can still act like the ass you are when your father groveled like a child when he was caught." NO! No no no no.....

Malfoy colours a deep pink. The way his eyes flash in malice and vengence, makes itself known to me that I will be the one who will pay for this later.

Harry has already taken out his wand and is prepared to duel. However Malfoy has other plans.

Smiling coldly at both of us. "The only one who will ever grovel is your little friend Weasel there."

"What are you talking about?" Harry has his teeth gritted.

The cold grey eyes turn themselves to me for the first time. Smiling at my obvious discomfort.

"Why don't you tell him. Or should I be given the honour." statements that mean so much.

I want him to burst into flames to save myself from an unspeakable humiliation. Instead I go on the defense.

"I quite plainly don't have a clue as to what you are talking about you slimey git. Maybe being an inbred has finally gotten to you." This is the wrong move. Sad thing is, I know it.

"Why you fucking faggot!" Taking out his wand he attempts to attack me. He swishes his wand once, I can hear Harry yell out in alarm. But all has gone black for me. I can still hear but all I fell is an urge to double over and throw up. I can't see and I can't seem to speak either.

The shouting is loud and cracks of spells hitting walls is enough to tell me that there is more than two people dueling.


	2. Remorse that knows no regrets

**REMORSE THAT KNOWS NO REGRETS**

Chpt. 2

(OK it's been awhile (computer problems) but I have gotten a couple of reviews and I will limit the amount of song lyrics and poems I use.)

(I do realize that my view on Ron may surprise some of you… however I personally like it.)

(As well I would like it very much if you have any criticism on my story for you to send me it. Or any suggestions.)

Hermione and nearly everyone in the room keep asking me about what happened in the Hallway today. Everyone asks the same question.

"Where is _Harry Potter_?"

"Why was _Harry Potter _dueling instead of at Quidditch practice?" I really want to thump the next person who says another _Harry Potter_.

"Ron?" It's Hermione again. I look up at her. I love her even if I do not love her in the sense that all others would have me love her.

She hasn't been talking to me very much ever since the whole Ernie incident. I look at her and I realize that the reason I thought I loved her was because of the feeling of protection. The way I feel when Ginny is doing something that she shouldn't. Hermione is beautiful to me. But for me she holds no appeal. Her brown hair and soft brown eyes deserve more than I could ever give. Her intellect and absolute loveliness is more than I can bear. That she finds a love that has been forever forsaken for me is all I ask of life.

The way she looks at me I know that she's worried. However I know that though she would be mine to hold and to keep, I could never truly be hers.

No that has been stolen from the two of us.

I shake my head. "It's nothing Hermione. Nothing at all." A lie. But there are so many that I can no longer keep track of.

I've been sitting here for now over an hour. I keep looking at my hands.

The perfectly long fingers that are as cold as ice most of the time. The slimy ferret called them artist hands. Though as disgusting as he was implying that, I can see what he meant. In another world I could've been a musician, painter anything but what I have become.

In another world my passion could've been fueled by something other than the Quidditch my best friend excels at me in. I could have painted as that muggle, Leonardo da Vinci painted. I could've put all the things that I cannot even utter in the simplest of words on canvas for the entire world to see. The

My doodles tell that that was the way it could've been. What it will never be. I know who I am. I am…

Nothing.

The way that the thought enters my mind makes me think that there is more to the thought than what is revealed. The way that the failure of it all, makes me want to scream. Bloody with all the despair reflected in it.

I remember the way that Percy held me when it became too much for me to handle. I remember the way that I cried when he held me to heal the pain and hurt away. I remember that the little boy was just a little boy, how I felt that Death could be waiting for me at every corner. How I was afraid of that for the longest of Times, than that fear decreased and disappeared.

I know that the King has come to hold High Court. The peasants' cries fill my ears but I don't want to look up into those accusing eyes that demand me to answer their questions. I don't even look up when he's right in front of me.

"Ron?" There is so much behind that one syllable. I don't want to look up.

I wait; half hoping that he'll just walk away.

"Ron?" When it becomes apparent that I won't answer he continues. "We need to talk. Alone. Now."

I nod. But it seems that the only way to ignore the problem is to meet it head on.

After much time being suffocated by _Harry Potter's_ admirers we finally made it to the Dormitory I felt like throwing myself out of the window near Seamus' bed. I'm standing there looking at the window thinking of all the suicide scenario's going through my mind.

"Ron." There. Now I have to look at him.

I love the way that his emerald green eyes seem to burn out of milky white face. The way the scar is the only thing that mar's this perfect face. I could have given the rest of my happiness to him. But I didn't. Not to this person who is nearly my brother.

I opened my mouth to say something to verify that we don't need to have a confrontation because everything is cool.

For him.

He's still staring at me. When it becomes obvious that I will not be the first one to talk, he begins.

"What Malfoy said? Why did he say that, I mean usually he says something about Hermione? Why did he say that about you?" He's suspicious because he probably thought that in the Wizarding world nobody said phrases like that.

I won't meet his eyes.

"Ron…" He's pressing to hard and I know that I'm going to have to say something. But I won't. I have nothing to say.

"Is it true…?" I can tell he doesn't really want an answer to that.

"_The more alternatives,_

_The more difficult the choice…"_

_Abbe D'Allainval_

I don't even bother to look up… instead I stare at my worn out shoes.

I nod.

Silence.

I'm running down the stairs at full speed. I could hear Hermione's cry of "Ron!" But I've already

Portrait.

After I nodded, the silence had become too much for me. Looking up I seen the exact thing that he didn't want me to see.

Revulsion.

No understanding, no concern… just disgust.

He tried to cover it up with the false look of concern, and caring. But it was too late. The damage has been done. The pit of my stomach dropped and the urge to run away from the monster I once knew as me.

I'm running through the halls as fast as I can. Out of the front door, into the cold bite of winter. The image of Harry's face is still present in my mind's eye.

The cold air is hurting my chest… but I refuse to stop running. There's a stitch in my side, the pain is rising. I keep running despite the antagonizing suffocation going on in my lungs. I cannot breathe and it's taking me all my strength to keep going…

My foot snags on an upturned frozen root. I fall, tearing some skin off of my knee.

I don't know how long I've been lying here but I know it's been long…

I can no longer feel some of my body parts. Instead there's a song that keeps playing in my head.

_**"Thief"** _

I don't want to understand this horror  
There's a weight in your eyes  
I can't admit  
Everybody ends up here in bottles  
But the name tag's the last thing you wanted

As the world explodes  
We fall out of it  
But we can't let go  
Because this will not go away  
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief  
That lives inside of your head  
But I can be some courage at  
The side of you bed  
I don't know what's happening  
And I can't pretend  
But I can be your, be your

Someone help us understand  
Who ordered this disgusting  
Arrangement, time and the end  
I don't want to hear who walked  
On water, because the hallways are empty  
And the clock ticks

As the world implodes  
We fall into it  
And we can't go home  
Because this will not go away  
There's a house built out in space

I can't see that thief  
That lives inside of your head  
But I can be some courage at  
The side of you bed  
I don't know what's happening  
And I can't pretend

It's a long, long get away  
It's a long, long get away  
Make it home again  
Make it home again  
It's a long, long get away  
It's a long, long get away

I can't see that thief  
That lives inside of your head  
But I can be some courage at  
The side of you bed  
I don't know what's happening  
And I can't pretend  
But I can be your, be your

_- Our Lady Peace_

I feel an unbearable pain in my chest… more painful than the frozen rocks cutting into my hand. More than the migraine forming in my head. I feel a heartbroken crush tearing apart my chest making me choke aloud that this is not enough…

But I stop hearing a soft voice calling to me as I feel the heaviness of sleep taking over my limbs. Like a lullaby the voice is soothing… a voice I've never heard and yet I never want to stop hearing. Soft and somber, like that of piano repertoire, Percy once made me listen to.

_Get up._

No.

_You must._

No… I can't…

_Get up._

Why? It hurts too much…

_It'll pass._

No it won't!

_No it won't. _The voice sounds resigned.

I don't know if I'm speaking aloud, I know that I am crying. My sobs I can hear.

_Stand._

I slide one knee up to my chest. My arms are shaking under the pressure; the pain is becoming apparent where it had been numb.

_Stand._

I can't.

_Yes._

My arms are being put to their limit as I try to stand up.

_One foot at a time._

I wobble but manage to keep my balance, cursing myself for being tall.

_One foot after the other._

I shuffle my right foot first. It feels heavy and the cold air is nearly driving me down into the ground again.

_One…two…three…_

I can see the castle. The light is nearly blinding my eye. There is a figure shadowing the doorway.

_Twenty seven…twenty eight…twenty nine…_

I'm nearly there.

I know that shadow… how could I not. I know it as only someone who knows a figure intimately would know it. But I cannot waste my time on antagonizing about how I don't want it to be who it is.

I place one foot on the bottom of the Front Stairs and try to raise my body up.

I nearly fall… but there is a body next to me holding me up.

_I'm sorry._

NO! You tell him to get away from me! You tell him to Go Away! You tell him to get his touches to himself! To keep his lips off of my cheek! I've had enough of him! You tell him…

_I can't._

My mind falls silent as I allow myself to be touched by this fiend that I so desperately hate…

And love.

His voice in my ear remarking on how cold I am. His lips on my face, his circling my lower back as a true lover might.

I allow myself to be taken to the Abandoned Classroom. Allow myself to bathe in his warmth…

His body close enough to touch my intimate parts. Taking off my shirt and trying to warm me to normal body temperature.

Looking into his eyes I see some of the concern he showed me that first time he revealed his other side. The side that I love honestly.

The side I associate with Draco.

I indulge in the feeling as he kisses my neck. Indulge in the way he leans on me as my arms wrap around his tiptoeing body. Hugging him close to me, I whisper in his ear

"_O mes petites amoureuses_

_Que je vous hais!_

_Plaquez de fouffes douloureuses_

_Vos tetons laids!"_

He looks up at me with glazed eyes, as his mouth opens in a question I swoop down and place my mouth on top of his. Than I push on his body to the cushions making my intentions clear.

Tonight was and will be mine.

I have been leaving little kisses all over his body… reaching his naval and going to his organ. Having him whimper and nearly beg is music to my ears… as grotesque as it is.

Taking him in my mouth I skillfully begin to pull back the foreskin with my tongue and give him my standard best. Stopping before he can reach the point of no return…

Crawl up to his face and kiss his sweaty lips. Grinding both of our organs together, he cries out. Making me smile into our kiss.

"Patience Malfoy." He's delirious at the way I've taken control… the way that I make him suffer for it.

"Do… do it…" he doesn't know how beautiful it is to see his blonde hair cling to his forehead, the way that the hidden desire in his cold grey eyes seem to call out for something he can't stop begging for.

I ignore his pleas and grab some of the oil he rarely used on me. I have to lean over his body to reach it underneath on of the pillows by his head. My organ over his stomach as he bucks into my body making me lose balance and fall to the side.

Laughing I continue on my hunt, finally retrieving my prize.

Still smiling I stare into his face as I lather the oil on my erection… watching his pained face as I slowly spread it over my organ.

His desperate panting is becoming too much for me… my own lust is being tried.

I grab his legs and sling them over my shoulders as I lean down. Steadying myself on either side of his torso.

Than I slowly take my left hand and find myself an opening, pushing myself in despite the fact that his gasping has a painful ring to it… I know that pleasure will come soon enough…

Thrusting into his body I am met with a pleasure that I have only known when I was on the bottom. The way the tightness of him is around my organ… making gasp as much as he is…

_Love him._

I do.

_Only in this embrace?_

There can be no other.

_Cruel._

So the darkest voice in my mind preaches.

_Would you have me say more?_

No. Go away let me enjoy this… this _"embrace"_ as you call it.

_Very well._

I thrust one last time and both of us come. Our cries loud and very much alive…

"You should take a shower." His getting dressed, but for once he's in a good mood.

I lean back into the pillows.

"I will." I say still feeling the pleasure.

He turns to look at me. His grey eyes as cold as ice once again. Staring at my nude body. Lingering on the stain he left. Leaning towards me and licking my stomach.

Getting up he says one last thing.

"Clean up before you leave."

French poem by Rimbaud.

O my little lovers,

How I hate you!

Plaster with painful blisters

Your ugly tits!


	3. The Fine Art of Falling Apart

"**The Fine Art of Falling Apart."**

Chapt. 3

There are things I don't know (more or less the things I should know):

1. Why I like boys.

2. Why I can't seem to concentrate in class.

3. Why are Muggles able to survive without magic?

4. Why is Oric called the Oddball (or is it Uric?)

5. Why my parents/everyone in the world seem to only notice me around Harry.

6. Why I'm still taking Divination even though I promised myself to drop it this year.

7. Why I'm sleeping with a guy who only tolerates me for my body.

8. Why I have the urge to call him "Draco" even when we aren't having sex.

Harry keeps trying to talk to me. I know I should be ready to talk to him, but I'm not.

Hell, I just realized that I'm gay, that I don't like girls…

_Faggot…_ the darkest trenches of my mind whispers in my ear.

Besides, Harry probably wants to ask if it is him I've been crushing on.

Oh of all the days to feel dread and despair it _had_ to be the day that I have Trelawney as a teacher.

I mean its not as if I hate her or anything… ok that's a lie I do hate her, but not as much as Snape.

After last night I feel the sharp knife of despair all the more clearly. I swear that if a madman had come into the castle with the asking for volunteers for "Avada Kevada" I would've looked for him myself.

_Is it that bad...? _I knew that there would be a day that I would have voices in my head.

"Ron?" The voice is timid, uncertain.

"Yes?" I know the familiar way that the sound of words comes out of that mouth. I know how it pains the one person I thought of as my beloved, that I won't turn around to face.

"Um… why did you run last night?" He doesn't know how to put the question without be blunt about it.

"I don't know… because I disgust you?" It comes out as more of a question. I could die right there right now.

He sighs. I could just imagine the timbers in his vocal cords shifting in one motion. Hermione calls that abstract art. I continue on my quest to find clean clothes.

"I don't find you disgusting. I… I was surprised." I don't even want to turn around to answer him. I know the truth. I seen it pasted on his face. I am not as blind as they like to think Ron Weasley is.

Something in my demeanor must have alerted him, because of all the sudden my senses are warped by his arms around my waist.

Hugging me from behind.

_Oh my god…_

"I don't find you disgusting." He repeats himself. I don't think I would breathe even if I could try. His head is on my back. His whisper lost in to my ears as I feel a physical intimacy that I would've never felt if we were 12 once again.

It seems as if Time had stopped as we stand there. The small breathes I am forced to take. The deep rising of his chest pushed into my lower back.

The door busts open as fast as we jump apart. I crash into the space between my trunk and nightstand. I know that it's Seamus and Dean arguing about some trivial thing by the way they both stomp over beside their beds.

I gingerly get up as they give their greetings to Harry, not even bothering to laugh at my fall.

"Hey Harry, you going to be going down to the Quidditch Pitch tonight? 'Cause I hear that Slytherin has Snape signing papers to use it tonight." Seamus, can there be a human in existence that does not talk as simple as he?

"Well they can take it tonight. We have it tomorrow morning." Harry, always the gentleman towards his peasants.

Laughing I hear them leave. Getting up finally from one of the most uncomfortable positions I have ever endured (Malfoy has never been this uncomfortable).

I'm looking at Harry for the first time since last night. The way that he seems to look wearier, more aged. His pitch black hair, in contrast of the pale blond that usually is clutched in my hands. His green eyes open with concern and ignorance. So unlike the ice grey ones that bypass me in arrogance.

His handsome face that I wish could be mine.

But alas, that can never be. Will _never _be.

"Harry… do you even know what your doing?" The hurt in my voice is echoed in the silent dorm.

He just stares at me. His rose petal lips sharpened by the small frown upon his lips.

Silence is all that I can hear. And soon it is all I can feel.

Bowing my head I finally get my reply.

"I don't know. But why did it have to be MALFOY!" I'm startled by the angry emotion at the end of this statement. As though he really couldn't imagine it, as though with my bowed head I can't hear him.

His breathing has become heavy. I know how he looks. Haven't I seen it enough times for the past year. Haven't I seen it as ignorance became the world's bread.

I want to cry. Deep in my heart I'm wishing that Percy will appear in the door and hold me like he last held me. Deep inside my soul I want to feel the innocent love that I lost when I started school. When I became the world's most famous child's best friend.

_Harry Potter._

Oh, why did he have to be Harry Potter? Why couldn't he have been someone else? Someone that I wouldn't have wanted so badly that it drove me into the arms of the enemy.

_There are things I don't know (more or less the things I should know):_

_Why I like boys._

His emerald green eyes are demanding a response. They want to know. And I'm afraid of giving that answer.

Looking up into his eyes, I see something that I never wanted to see.

_5. Why I'm sleeping with a guy who only tolerates me for my body_

"I… I … want it." My god, that probably wasn't the right thing to say.

"You want_ it_?" Jeez. Don't sound too disgusted.

I nod. Looking at him with deviance. I don't care what he thinks of that. My own sexual preference, wouldn't you get that I like boys for a reason.

He looks at me. As if debating whether or not to throw himself out of the window right beside him.

I sigh and once again turn my back on him.

"Harry. Shouldn't you worry about things that actually matter? Turn around I'm changing."

Sitting in Charms I barely pay attention. Drawing, I find myself lost to it. Even Hermione's sniffs of irritation can't bother me.

_Your own little world of seclusion._

Indeed.

_The Fine Art of Falling Apart_

_I walk alone and I _

_I ride alone and I_

_I rock myself to sleep_

_Baby, there ain't room enough in this world_

_For people like you and horrors like me.A time of darkness_

_There lived a girl in a cave in the woods_

_Disguised as a bee_

_At night she would fly into the city_

_Sting the cause _

_And sting the cost_

_And she would hover over me_

_Whispering _

_And so we sing_

_We're surfacing_

_We're surfacing_

_I stand alone and I _

_I fight alone and I _

_Stay clean by feeling cheap_

_And baby, there ain't enough room in this world_

_For perfection's like you_

_And monsters like me_

_A time of darkness _

_You will look absurd and you will feel in inert_

_And you will go looking to blame somebody_

_You see I used to think that I'd get over everything_

_But everything just got_

_Over me_

_I'm some of it _

_You're some of it_

_We're some of it_

_I'm certain of it_

_I walk alone and I _

_I ride alone and you know_

_That's all right by me_

_See baby cause _

_Here ain't enough room in this world _

_For a great, great many things._

_- Matthew Good Band_

I have a fair idea that I've been singing aloud. But I don't care my drawing has begun to take on a definitive shape. I don't know what exactly is going on in the picture and I just don't care. My whole world seems to be in a box. Whilst I float around.

There's a thousand worlds flicking in my eye. In some way I think it's turning into one of those ridiculous angel things… I don't really know anything about those things. In my own childhood religion played absolutely no role. Not even when death was beckoning at the door.

The angel is holding a bloody sword and driving into the back of another angel. Blood is being poured out of the invisible wound. The dying hands clutching the forearms. The sky storms overhead, as the animals and plants of the field look on.

The faces are beginning to emerge.

"Ron! Pay attention!" I could strangle her right now.

I snap my head up ready to kill, but the face of Professor Flitwick comes into view.

"Detention." His voice is relatively calm as he says that. Even though his face is the utmost mad as I have ever seen him.

I nod, putting away my stuff and bringing out my work. Before realizing class is over.

Eating is one of my more favourable pastime activities.

"Ron! Slow down that's disgusting." Ha! Whatever I haven't Aten since yesterday, thank you very much.

I open my mouth for Hermione to get a full view.

Getting slapped is worth everyone's enjoyment at the moment. Harry and Ginny are laughing. Neville choking on a piece of meat.

Most of all the familiar dirty looks coming from the Slytherin table.

The way that it should be.

Sighing in content I lean back.

(OK… so I think I'm going to be adding to the plot.)

_Oh and just so its clear. Draco and Ron are not "boyfriends". Draco is too mean to him, and Ron is too involved with not be involved with girls. As well I think I should raise the answer that, yes I think that there might be some form of incest between Ron and Percy… how that comes about you'll have to wait and see… I'll be getting to the bloody war scenes pretty soon._


	4. Selfish

**SELFISH**

Chapt. 4

I think that in some dark trench that has been left in my mind, I knew that Harry liked me. Maybe if I were the type of person who didn't feel as though the world is falling apart on me, I might have known earlier. I might've guessed about it during the Triwizard Tournament. But I didn't. I thought that Harry was trying to get over Cho.

I thought I was still the sidekick and that Harry just needed to keep that sidekick.

It makes me think of how selfish I've been.

I try to hold on to dreams. The same way that I depend on the past for all the answers that the present doesn't provide. I remember in my Third Year, when I did my Divination exam that Trelawney told me that I must let give to life in order to receive it. However she ruined that sage advice by proclaiming that only in death may all the past wrongs leave me. So I completely ignored her advice.

I remember in Fourth Year the way that jealousy claimed my soul. The way that _Harry Potter_ became everyone's special pet again. Hermione found someone that could love her honestly. I remember all the angry feeling that I felt in that year.

I remember Fifth Year. The world seemed so distant and I was an actor in it. Playing the friend that cared more than he was supposed to. I remember the way that I quietly angst about my opening to consciousness. The feelings I had about Hermione coming out in full. That blokes were more apparent for my fantasies than girls.

But most of all I remember the mixed feelings I felt towards Harry after Sirius died. The feelings of hate and impatience. I wanted to shake him out of it. I wanted to tell him, no _scream_ at him that he wasn't the only one to lose someone. I liked Sirius.

I am thinking of all these thoughts and reasonable hints in momentary words. If I could speak of them aloud I would.

But the touch of those soft chapped lips are on mine. The inexperienced way that they press on mine. Soft as though if they pressed any harder it would break this fragile dream we are dwelling in.

My eyes are closed. I don't want to see this.

I don't want to see the black hair wind swept all over the place. I don't want to see the pale skin stretched over the thin muscle toned body.

If I could I would break this kiss. I would run far away. Far away from Malfoy and Harry. I would run if I could, into the arms of the awaiting Hermione. Or perhaps at this point in my teenage life into the ever- so patience embrace of Death.

If I could I would turn back Time and replay my life all over and pin- point the exact time that my life went so horribly wrong.

"Ron… I …I'm sorry." The hurt in the voice is overwhelming.

Opening my blue eyes to his green, I look into them. I notice the black outlining his irises, I notice there is a bit of yellow and blue that comes out.

"No Harry. Don't." I realize that we're suppose to be having a shower and going into the Common Room to boast to everyone that we're going to win the Cup this year.

Placing my hand on his shoulder I allow it to travel down and trace the Gryffindor crest on his Quidditch robes. The red and yellow clashing as horribly, as my favourite colour orange clashes on me.

I trace it feeling the embroidery on the tips of my fingers.

"Ron."

"Harry, don't. It isn't the way things go." I have to force it out.

I wish that he could see into my mind. The reasons that I can't give him my heart to break as Malfoy breaks it. The reasons I can't allow him to love me beyond the friendship we share.

_Selfish._

"So you choose that… thing?" I'm surprised at the calm tone his voice has taken.

I nod.

The way that my hand is touching thin air, I feel my soul cry out that I am but an idiot in this fair play of life.

_Selfish._

"Come on, who are you two bringing to the Dance?" The question is innocent enough. Though I can fairly say that the way that Harry stiffens that he's still upset with me over last week.

"Well, Luna asked me so we're going." I say it rather pleasantly. After all like Harry said it was pretty obvious last year that Luna had a small thing for me.

"What about you Harry?" He shoots me an evil look. As if I just betrayed him.

"Well I don't think I'll be taking anyone." I told him to ask Susan Bones but he ignored me the way that he's been doing for the past week.

Dean nods as though he understood. Probably thinking that being the most sought out guy in the school Harry doesn't want to make anyone fight over him.

If only he knew.

The Dance is only a few days away. Luna has become a dear friend of mine during that short time. She told me that she realized that she was going to just stay a friend; after all she planned to travel the world and didn't have time for any such romance. I smiled and laughed, thinking that if I couldn't share my secrets with my two best friends anymore I could share it with Luna.

Harry has been going more and more crazed. Forcing one of the new Chasers to an early break down. Laughing Ginny and I told Harry that people aren't supposed to go trauma until their first O.W.L.

Needless to say he didn't find that very entertaining.

Today everyone is going to Hogsmeade. The girls are giggly, every single one of them but Luna. Maybe that's one of the reasons I enjoy being around her. It's like being around both Harry and Hermione back in First Year before the hormones kicked in. A slightly deranged First Year, but never the less one that was missed.

I don't have to hold her hand. I don't have to get her to giggle. I don't have to buy her things that I can't afford.

I don't really have to do anything but laugh at the freaky things she utters.

I like it this way. The feeling of contentment.

Harry is on the other side of the courtyard laughing with all of our friends. Luna is telling me something about KinKipon's.

"… of course you'll only find them in South Africa, but they're dangerous. Only breed every couple of decades. The horns are full of powder puss…"

"Power puss?"

"A toxide they use in 'Witch No Pimples'."

"Ahh… I see."

I'm drinking a butterbeer. Leaning back as Luna reads me some articles out of the Quibbler. The articles are ridiculous but I find that my more humorous side find them entertaining.

Malfoy is in the pub as well. Talking with some Slytherin's that I don't know by name. With Pansy Parkinson draping herself on his arm and looking smug.

I know someone's watching me watch Malfoy. Turning slightly I see Harry glaring at me. The hate and spite in his gaze startles me for a moment. Though I see his contort into something worse as he looks at Malfoy.

"Ron? Is there something you should tell me?" The way she speaks in my ear sends down unpleasant shivers on my spine.

Looking at her, her blond hair scraggly and giving her a definite nutso persona. Her blue eyes paler than mine are. The way that she seems to have lost that dreamy, surprised look and replaced it with a concerned face.

"Luna… I'm not… interested in you." I can't believe how hard it is to say one word.

Well OK its two words.

"I know." She says it without even blinking. Something that's always unnerved me.

"Well, I … uh…"

"Do you like boys?"

I'm shocked.

She smiles and hugs me.

We don't speak another word about it for the rest of the day.

Walking from the carriages to the castle I know that Malfoy and his gang of idiots are behind Luna and by the screech that Parkinson gives.

"OHHH… Look it's the years crazy couple together!" I don't even bother turning around. Let them say what they will.

I haven't been to see Malfoy since that night in the rain.

Yet, just to piss him off even more.

Taking Luna's hand in mine and pulling her close so that I can place an arm around her waist. I can taste the venom in his mouth.

Luna's chuckling softly; she probably has it already figured out.

I ignore the passing remarks of Parkinson's knowing that world looks better when vindictiveness comes into play.

Gryffindor's first Quidditch match is the day after the Dance.

Harry's going insane. I swear his heart's about to stop.

Everyone's telling me to calm him down.

But I think I'll make it worse.

"Harry? Uh… are you going to come to dinner?" I think it's a reasonable question.

Silence.

"Um… well I'm sure we'll beat Hufflepuff." I'm trying to remind him that Hufflepuff has the world's worst Seeker.

Silence.

I walk over to where he stands looking at the black board where he has put all the plans.

"You still suck at being a Keeper."_ Well, Fuck you too. _

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!" I can't help it. I'm sick of the treatment.

Turning around so that our bodies are only inches apart.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT IS MY PROBLEM? AS IF YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW!" I am not prepared for his anger in return. He continues as if his life depended on saying it.

"SIRIUS DIES AND MY BEST FRIEND IS FUCKING MALFOY…"

"WHY DO YOU CARE? WHY DO YOU PRETEND THAT YOU CARE, YOU'RE HARRY POTTER THE BOY WHO LIVED, YOU CAN HAVE ANYONE. DO YOU THINK THAT I CAN? I'M SICK OF BEING THE FUCKIN' SIDEKICK—"

The tears coming out of his eyes stop me. I have only ever seen him cry once. After the Triwizard Tournament. I have only ever seen him so sad when both Cedric and Sirius died.

I lean over to wipe the tears away.

His voice comes out in choking gasps.

"Why Malfoy… why not me?" It's absolutely painful to see him this sad.

My hand is wet from his tears. His emerald green eyes make me want to die.

"I don't know…" I don't want to tell him that the pain and angst that Malfoy puts me through makes me _alive._

He steps closer to me. The body giving off heat.

He tiptoes to kiss me.

I put my fingers on his lips.

"No. I Love you too much." My own tears fill my eyes and slowly I feel myself crumble away in my chest.

Please review... I feel a little unwanted. (If I could cry right now I would. Too much coffee, can't cry)


	5. Smaller than Life

**Smaller than Life**

Chapt. 5

I keep thinking that maybe the world would be a better place if I didn't keep screwing up everyone's life like I do my own.

Dance… god, how I hate these things. No matter what Luna has ever said about not liking to dance, I will never believe her again. Not after four songs of complete chaos.

I stumbled over my own two feet the entire time. It may have been funny if it was another situation.

I went outside to get away from the _liar_, standing in the courtyard I was strongly reminded of when I was fourteen and me and Harry stood in the same courtyard in the same situation. I could hear all the sounds of people hiding in the bushes. Obviously making out.

And now as I sit on this cold stone bench, I wonder. Is Malfoy out here with Parkinson?

A smirk appears on my lips. Of course he is.

I shrug it off.

I smile to myself. Thinking of the night Harry and I found out that Hagrid was a half-giant. How shocked I was. How nonplussed Harry was. Its times like those I admit that I treasure most. Times before everything… happened. Cedric. Cho. Sirius. Umbridge.

Maybe that's why I'm so insane. Because I wish for things to be the same as they once were. I wish for Percy to be as he was when I was a child. I wish that Harry and I could go back to being 11 year-olds.

-The dance is over and I begin to walk back to the castle. Stopping for some unknown reason when I hear the sound of two giggly persons. Turning around, I see through a patch of bushes the distinct figures of Parkinson and Malfoy. Malfoy has her up against a tree. The giggling has turned into moans.

Whirling around I feel a sickness in my stomach. It travels around my entire body. I know that in about a few seconds I'm going to hurl.

Once I finish over a patch of flowers. I rest my head on the back of a new by tree. Concentrating on my breathing, counting over and over until the bile doesn't want to come back up.

I can honestly say that I don't understand why my reaction was like this. I mean it isn't as if I didn't know that they were… not together. From what Hermione told me a couple of weeks ago, they've been together for awhile.

I can still see his hand up her dress robe. Doing… I don't want to think about that.

I begin my slow descent into the Gryffindor Common room.

-

Harry is there listening to Seamus describe in detail how he almost made out with this Hufflepuff. He stares at me as I walk in. Nodding ever once and awhile to Seamus. I don't break contact and meet his stare head on. I lean against the table that they've put some drinks on. Taking a cup and drinking. We still haven't broken eye contact. Although I can't see them, I imagine how his irises must be glinting in the candle light.

It only occurs to me then that I haven't seen Hermione all night.

Seamus has finished his story, and Harry gives him his full attention. Taking his eyes off of mine.

I sigh and put down the cup. I decide to take a shower and then head off to bed. Tomorrow's going to be a long day.

-

Shower's cool me down. The water jetting out of the top. The absolute need to rush. The prefect bathroom makes washing seem weird. I mean with that mermaid on the wall. It creeps me out. So I don't bath in there really.

There's stalls in this bathroom. The Six Year's bathroom is a little better than the Fifth Year. I tilt my head back to catch the water in my mouth.

Its only then do I get the feeling someone is watching me.

Turning around as fast as I can, the curtain's open and Harry is standing there. Staring at my body as if this was a normal thing.

The fact that he still has his clothes on and is leaning against the cubical door is really making me aroused. Embarrassed beyond anything else I don't know what to do. I turn around and pray that he'll just leave. But he doesn't. I can feel his stare.

I can hear his undressing. If it were possible I go even redder. I'm shaking I'm so afraid.

_Afraid of what?_

He's right behind me. And although he's shorter, I feel as though he's the dominant one right now. Reaching around me, I can feel his erection digging into my lower back. I bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning in longing.

He grabs the soap and begins to wash my back. First my shoulders, arms, back, then my buttocks and at last my thighs. I tremble when he comes to that part. He forces my legs apart. Running the soap between my legs, touching me in the most innocently erotic way. At that point I let out a small moan.

He stands up.

"Turn around, Ron." Ohmygodohmygod….

I do as he says. Feeling the blush redden to a deep maroon colour.

I expect him to kiss me. But he stares at my face, then goes back on his knees. I know what is going to happen. I don't want it to happen. But I can't seem to stop him. His mouth is so warm. This is the first time I've been subjected to this. The first time I've had someone's mouth on me. The warmth is great; the inexperienced tongue is even more. I can feel my muscles tense. My panting seems to be uncontrollable. I clutch at his hair. The water taming it to at last stay down. I can feel my climax coming.

I tighten my hold on his hair. Bucking only slightly as I come.

I lean against the shower wall. Tired, guilty.

Shame.

He kisses me for the first time. I can taste me on him. I kiss back. Wanting to taste more in morbid fascination, all of me. His hands are on my shoulders. Forcing me down to my own knees. And with that in mind I take my time, and place all my practice time on making this one hell of a shower scene.

-

I still taste him on my tongue. Its morning and I should be getting out of bed. But I really don't want to. I really just want to lie here and dream dreams that involve only innocent things. Not the filthy adolescent sex drives that have inhabited my world.

Neville is in the room, sleeping as well. I wonder what its like to be like him. To be the kind, naïve. I wonder what its like to be on the sidelines just watching. Not going through the near traumatizing over exaggerations that the Golden Trio go through. I wonder what it must be like to be only spoken about when I'm in the room. To find only comfort among plants.

I wonder what its like to be an only child whose parents are insane. I've always liked Neville. There was a charisma that simply made it easy to be around him. His smile and absolute welcome arms.

I wish that I never met Harry. I wish that I never allowed myself to dominated with my despair, thus rendering me possible for Malfoy. I wish that I never made a joke about Percy…

I wish for a lot of things.

I really need to get out of bed. I'm hungry and need to get ready for the Match today. And I should get Neville up.

Groaning I haul my sorry ass out of bed. And look over at where Neville's four-poster bed is. He's sleeping facing me, his mouth open only a little. His mop of brown hair, covering what has turned into a charming face. I smile.

-

I know that Harry is going to be silent about the entire shower scene incident. And yet although I know this, I can't help but feel a little put out.

I can feel it as I walk the predictable doom. Anxiety hits me hard as I think about walking down that pathway and into the Quidditch Pitch. I don't want to go. But I don't believe that there is an alternative.

Each one of my steps echo in my ears. I feel so tiny compared to how tall I actually am.

I placed my Quidditch robes on. The pads on my elbows and knees oddly enough make me feel calmer. Everyone else has done changing, yet I still haven't finished putting my shoes back on.

My heart is pounding. Not as fast as it used to when I had to play Keeper, but enough to keep my nerves alert. I feel sick. Hufflepuff is out there already waiting for Harry to stop ranting at us. I barely listen and concentrate on feeling not allowing the bile to over power me.

Harry and Zacharias Smith, the new Hufflepuff Captain shake hands grimly. I see Madame Hooch say the words. Then with a whirl everyone is leaving the ground. The loud catcalls of the crowd seem to affect only me. I force myself to not concentrate on that. I remember what Harry said in the change room about me being the worst Keeper this team has ever had.

For some unexplained reason my anger flares.

I can see Harry's back. The way he can control his flying as he cannot control anything else.

The Quaffle blocks my sight. Soaring by a blue of black and yellow.

I smack it with the tail end of my broom making it smash right into Smith. Chuckling evilly, I continue to safe the goals.

Until I see a black blur on my right. Smaller than life is the only thing I thought of to describe it.

A shot of pain. My right side caving into my left. Then the sensation of falling…

_Black._


	6. HABIT

_**HABIT**, _n. _A shackle for the free._

_- The Devils Dictionary_

I've awaken to the sound of birds. I hate waking up to that. It irritates me as most things do. Which I find funny considering what my family is like. The fact that I have such small irritations has been my downfall with my twin brothers.

I remember what happened if not the events afterwards. I remember the blackness that came as a relief to the pain that I felt on my side.

Nothing else.

Not that it matters.

-

* * *

Madame Pomphrey is driving me insane with her insistent checks to see if everything is alright. I want to scream in her face that everything is just _fine._ So peachy fine, that I think I'm about to barf….

However she is the one who determines whether or not I am able to leave this facility so I won't.

I can't seem to help myself but to think that _he_ will come to see me. I keep hoping that he will. I would like to think that I was more than just what he said I was. I know that it is nothing but a dream that I am nothing but a fool for wanting something as un-_Malfoy_ such as that.

But then maybe, I am a bigger fool to expect that Harry would be up here. To be visiting me and seeing if I was going to be OK… it's a given that I will be fine.

But still…

-

* * *

Hermione had managed to put some sense into that infuriating woman. How?

Hell, who cares?

I went to the Common Room, hoping for some odd reason to find Harry. Yet between the slaps on the back and the general cat- calls of Seamus "Man, that was Awesome!" I didn't find him.

I honestly don't know where to look. The Dorm is deserted and I'm standing in the Quidditch Locker. Yet strangely for once he seems to not be here.

I have the strange thought that he could perhaps be in the Library catching up on work, with Hermione.

So that is where I'm heading. Walking on the grass. Noticing that the world from this view seems as though nothing horrible could ever happen to it.

That this school seems like a child's dream. The castle with its many stories… the lake that looks over everything. Even in the dead of winter it seems to have a cold beauty to it.

_It reminds you of **him** doesn't it?_

Its times like these that I believe that I am going insane.

But that's not what matters here. The world is safe. The world is fragile and in its frailty it has become conceited.

The steps that lead to the front doors of this imposing castle are rather strange. As though it was like that Muggle Cinderella story, where you walk up those steps to see what fortune has in store for you behind those doors.

I don't really know the full story. But I remember it had a happy ending. The Faerie God- Mother seemed ridiculous to me. The parts with the magic in them where so real, so based on what could, what _did_ go on in my life I laughed. The people turning into mice. The pumpkin becoming a chariot.

It was the fact that Muggles thought that as _magic, _their concepts of it were so funny to me as a child.

But its times like these that I start thinking that maybe Muggles had a better view of the world. That maybe it would be better if I knew nothing of magic at all. That pulling rabbit out of a hat would be better that being able to say "Wingardium Leviosa".

To be so simple. Yet so complicated in the matters of science and their technology, it would be better than to live in this _world_.

The one that never changes and thus gaining nothing.

Passing the portraits I hear some of the whispered conversations.

"Did you hear about Minerva's opinion on Interhouse Relations?"

"Oh, Flavius only about the _third_ of the school happened to hear her and young Mr.Snape yelling at Albus…"

"True. But did you have to admit that some of the students have taken it all…."

"Rather disgustingly." Replies an old lady who looks as if she had been the 'Wicked Old Witch'.

"In my day those things would've never been thought of." The first speaker replies, initiating a long debate on school morals these days.

I smile. I like listening to the drabble of the portraits. It can become rather entertaining.

I've arrived at the library. And neither Hermione nor Harry are in there. Feeling rather down I turn to leave. The thought of the 'Room of Requirement' enters my mind.

I should think this over… if Hermione or Harry are in there then maybe they want to test out Harry's powers again.

I would most likely disturb him.

But I want to see him. Just to see if he cares anymore.

So that is where my legs lead me. Up the stairs and through the hidden passages until I make it to the floor that the 'Room of Requirement' walking around a few times to allow me to see the door.

Grasping the door handle, not listening to any of my instincts.

And all I can do is stand there. Breathing is so far from my mind.

But the tears come first.

-

* * *

It's been a week and I still see the images. I still see the one thing that makes my heart stretch in two and the pain that destroys my soul.

Worse than my thoughts of _Doom_. Worse than my world of _Darkness. _

Their limbs tangled together. Their faces in ecstasy of the other's body. The barely movable mouths. One on their hands and knees. The other behind thrusting in. When the black hair body turns to see me, the pink mouth forming the word 'Ron'.

I want to scream. The blonde haired ferret in submission of the black hair. I stumbled from the room. No longer wanting to see the tanned naked body over the nude pure white skin. I no longer wanted to see it.

_Betrayal. _

-

* * *

It's been a week and I show my emotions to no one. I spend no more than a quarter's second in the same room as **_HIM._** Forever referring to him in my mind as the Judas of my heart.

The black haired freak, who stole my heart only to tear it three times.

The moment he kissed me. Breaking the ties of brother ship

The shower in which he tore my heart.

The Room that he stole the kiss from his enemy, excepting the price that means my own self-righteous suicide.

Hermione doesn't suspect a thing. Not that I think she would. I spend no time in the Dorms.

If we have a Quidditch Practice I leave as soon as it's over. Not wanting to be in the same room as my… Judas.

The other one. The other betrayer of my soul remains forever out of my mind. The moment I can sense him come into a room I close up. My mind has been violated. I will not allow such a violation to continue.

I can imagine what weakness drives me to think of myself as pitiful. I know I am. I have been for awhile.

I can no longer find it within me to smile. No longer can I find it within me to do anything but hide.

And it has become a habit to fall into despair. The feeling of worthlessness becomes overwhelming.

I know that _my Judas_ wants to talk to me.

Yet every time I look into his face I see the face of someone who will only hurt me.

I know that the other one stares at me as we walk past each other to lessons. That it is all the hate I allow to slide off of me, to slip onto him and his minion that keep them away from me. I know that they haven't seen each other since. But for whatever reason I cease to care.

I will be going home soon.

But _my Judas_ will not share my room. I will not allow it. And in a quiet reserve he knows it.

I will spend my time with Percy. I will not allow another betrayal to happen.

Because the story that goes with the last betrayal has yet to happen.

The last kiss and I am spent.

So as I sit in this Transfiguration Class, I curl up to inside myself. Feeding my Despair with the visionary images of tangled limbs and lust that knows no boundaries.

I do so, knowing that this unhappiness will become

_Habit.

* * *

_

REVIEW! I know that this chapter was a bit distorted.

But I refuse to write more unless I get more reviews… snicker I know bitchy huh?


	7. Why Me?

I appreciate all the positive reviews I've gotten; it's nice to know that so many people like my writing.

Though one of the reviewers enlightened me as to why I haven't gotten as much exposure as Draco/Harry writers.

Secretly I really hate that pairing because, when you think about it. That's about as unrealistic you get.

Ironically so is the whole Harry Potter storyline.

* * *

"_**WHY ME!"**_

**Chapter Seven**

I've been wronged. I know it. I don't care if _THEY _don't know it. It doesn't bother me.

_Liar…_

OK. So what if it bothers me!

It isn't as if it matter now does it. Besides in two more days I'll be leaving this damned school, something for which I will be eternally grateful for.

However, there is one thing that ruins it all for me.

_HE'S _invited. And like the traitor that he is, accepted.

**Bastard.**

As soon as I found out I nearly screamed at my sister why she invited _HIM,_ didn't she realize that he is…

**_Judas_**.

Of course at that point I realized that she had no idea and probably will remain ignorant about the whole ordeal for the rest of her life.

Thank god.

* * *

I can't help myself. Counting down the hours, to the seconds to the nano- seconds the moments I leave on that train. With no one to bother me.

I even have a _plan,_ as to why I'm not going to be sitting with Hermione and Ginny along with the others.

It's such a devious plan.

_Actually, _it's not. But I know it will work.

I'm packing already. In the past, I've only packed within a couple of hours of leaving the castle. But lately I've been going off my _usual._

In fact I overheard Seamus talking to Dean about it. Neville told them that I probably have a lot of stress with all my Prefect duties and Quidditch playing.

It took all my will power not to break off in hysterical laughter right then.

* * *

"_I close my eyes_

_When I get too sad_

_I think thoughts _

_That I know are bad._

_Close my eyes and I count to ten _

_Hope it's over when I open them…"_

I'm humming, I know I am. I know that I sound as if I'm going insane, and guess what?

…_.hmm?_

I am!

For the first time in my life, I truly believe that there might be something wrong with me.

I feel as though I could explode. I feel as though the world is tilting.

* * *

"_I want the things that I had before  
like a star wars poster on my bedroom door  
I wish I could count to ten  
Make everything be wonderful again…"_

I can hear the others moving around the room. I don't care if they can hear the words that I am singing to myself. I, in all honesty don't care if the entire world sees me 'footloose'. I don't care that Seamus will babble to the entire Common Room that Ronald Weasley is losing his marbles.

I don't care. Because I can't.

If I allow myself, I'll break into a million pieces. And the same incident that happened during summer will happen again and again….

And what if that happens and there is no Percy to fix me and piece me back together again.

Folding one of my tattered shirts I place it as though it's a delicate feather in my suitcase.

* * *

"_Hope my mom and I hope my dad  
Will figure out why they get so mad  
Hear them scream, I hear them fight  
They say bad words that make me wanna cry…"_

I don't think I should be like this. Treating every particle that I hold in my hand as though it were an invaluable object.

I know that Dean is behind me trying to talk to me… but I can't care. I want to cry… so I let the tears fall to my face…

After all, I can't care.

* * *

"_Close my eyes when I go to bed  
And I dream of angels who make me smile  
I feel better when I hear them say  
Everything will be wonderful someday…"_

I can't help myself. The tears are overwhelming. The words that are coming out of my mouth are clear and concise.

So unlike 'Ron Weasley', the one who is always in the background. The one that people will always overlook. The one who must be as **Great** and **Noble** as **The- Boy- Who- Lived**...

But I shall not. I will refuse.

* * *

"_Promises mean everything when you're little  
And the world's so big  
I just don't understand how  
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes  
Tell me everything is wonderful now..."_

I am not allowed to be **me**. My namesake forbids it. My hair and complexion will forsake me. My smile has become a fixture on my face. As though I can be nothing but what others have manipulated me to be.

Filling my mind with self- glorifying pictures of being a lackey.

And yet. Here I am.

Standing in front of my suitcase. Surrounded by the most loyal friends a person could ask for, wondering why I am crying…

I could answer that I am crying, because there is nothing left. I am an empty hole, with nothing to salvage to fill a void.

Because no sex, money nor empty promises could fill the black with colour.

* * *

"_Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now…"_

There is no one in the world who knows me. No one in the world who sees me as I see me.

But there is someone who can come close to being a contender.

Someone, who was there the last day of my innocence, the last day that I was _me._ Not merely a Weasley. There is one person who has been to hell and heard its sweet and sensuous call. Someone who feels as I feel, the actor.

_The Court Jester.

* * *

_

"_I go to school and I run and play  
I tell the kids that it's all okay  
I laugh aloud so my friends won't know  
When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home…"_

I'm curling in a ball. The darkness and pitch black have taken over me once again. I wrap my arms around my knees. Bringing them to squeeze to my chest as the thought of **Doom**, creeps slowly upon me. It's painful, **this could-have-been-prevented** panic attack. But that's the last thing on my mind. Right now all I want to do is scream and cry.

* * *

"_Go to my room and I close my eyes  
I make believe that I have a new life  
I don't believe you when you say  
Everything will be wonderful someday…"_

I'm clutching my hands to my head, in a vain attempt to rid myself of these thoughts.

I can hear people around me. Someone touches me.

I scream.

And scream.

* * *

"_Promises mean everything when you're little  
And the world is so big  
I just don't understand how  
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes  
When you tell me everything is wonderful now…"_

I can recognize McGonagall's commanding voice. I can feel Hermione's tight embrace, refusing to let go.

But I've fallen too far over the edge.

I'm sick.

I know I am.

There is no words that can make that better.

There are no promises of happiness that will make it go away.

There is nothing in this world that'll make this alright.

* * *

"_No  
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now  
No  
No, I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now…"_

A sudden jolt and I realize that I am still singing that song. I cannot believe it.

The song is taking over my senses, and I concentrate on saying each word with a preciseness that is only heard when a North American tourists comes into the Village.

I've stopped trembling.

The blackness has dimmed.

But I know…

Sickness.

* * *

"_I don't wanna hear you say  
That I will understand someday  
No, no, no, no  
I don't wanna hear you say  
You both have grown in a different way  
No, no, no, no  
I don't wanna meet your friends  
And I don't wanna start over again  
I just want my life to be the same  
Just like it used to be  
Some days I hate everything  
I hate everything  
Everyone and everything  
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now..."

* * *

_

And through all this insanity, I can't help but ask the most selfish thing that someone could possibly think.

_Why me?

* * *

_

"_I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now…"_

I can feel all their stares. I can feel all their confusion.

I can feel.

But it hurts. It hurts so much…

So much more than the betrayal…

So much more than the failure…

So much more…

_Why me?

* * *

_

I know I know… the stupid song lyrics. But I heard the song on the way to school and I thought that it would capture a little more of how I think Ron would feel…. Plus I thought that saying that Harry and Draco's little 'thing' wouldn't affect him that much.

Mainly because the way that I've written Ron, he's too complex and wrapped up in trying to hold himself together to be bothered by something like that…

Also I needed enough angst in here to be able to get over a writer's block I have.

REVIEW… and if it is a must… CRITIZISE-(wow I so cannot spell).


	8. The Slytherin Kyle

CHAPTER 8 

A/N—I enjoyed the reviews that I've been getting. But I'll just clarify some things…

When I said that part of the 'Court Jester' I meant to say that it was Ron who was the Court Jester, because he has to make everyone laugh. In the books he seems to be the idiotic one whose only role is to entertain the others…

Hence 'Court Jester'.

* * *

**The Slytherin Kyle…**

Everyone here thinks I'm nuts. I am. But that's not the point. You're supposed to humour the madman.

Not make him worse.

One more day and I'm on that train to freedom. No more hiding around corners just to avoid confrontations with _anybody._

At this time in my life I'm thinking of Hermione.

As much as I love her… the way that if she scents a problem it becomes something to analyze or worse… something emotional that everyone should be a part of.

The train seems as though it will never come.

I want to scream at it and demand why it tortures me so…

* * *

Eating in the Great Hall I feel as though the whole entire world has gone mad. With everyone looking at me warily… like their waiting until I jump up and start slobbering with the idea that I'm a dog inflicted with Billywags.

I hate the way that the Gryffindor's think that isolation is the way to solve the world's problems. As if ignoring the things that bring down their world will make everything alright again.

And that is what their doing. Ignoring my presence as though I were just a dust ball floating in the air.

The sideways glances that come from all around the Hall gives me the peace and mind that someone couldn't manage to keep their mouths shut. Allowing the whole school a glimpse of my madness…

I'm barely able to swallow the chunk of meat that I have in my mouth.

I feel a sickening dread fill my stomach. I feel an anxiety that I cannot explain fill my being with its deep crimson red.

_No… control it. _

Hold on to it for a little while.

The meat goes down and I feel full.

* * *

_He's _up there in our Dorm. I don't care if it's immature the way that I continuously avoid confrontation. It doesn't matter.

_They _hurt me.

I want them to either die of guilt or disappear from my thoughts.

Turning around I walk out of the Portrait Hole. I decide to just walk around. Considering that both of _Them _might be busy packing.

I walk past the paintings. Feeling the life of this decrepit castle fill me up until my soul can no longer stretch.

The greyness of the centuries years- old stone walls. It could make a person wonder what the point was.

What was the point of feeling as though you are stuck in between the vastness of Time?

I don't know. And sometimes I think that I don't want to know.

So I walk down this deserted corridor. With my thoughts as no one will know them. I feel the coldness of my loneliness hit me hard.

But I won't _can't _let it bother me.

I see a group of students at the end of one corridor. They seem like every other student. Except that they seem to be crowding around each other to see something…

I catch a few excited whispers.

"… make sure you kick the snake's face… get him real good…" my veins stop and freeze.

"… Don't forget his stomach so he won't be able to not puke for a week…" I cannot believe this is happening.

"… quick before someone comes…" I open my mouth to start yelling at them. Closing it when I hear words I never thought I would witness.

"… fuckin' **_Death Eater_** getting what you deserve now…" my vision turns blood red… the heat in my body boils as it only does when I am truly mad.

* * *

Screaming until I am hoarse has never been a good idea. But with my mother what can you expect.

But I scared the living daylights out of the group of Ravenclaws. Quite funny.

Except for the blood that lined near their feet.

_The lack of guilt in their eyes. The murderous gleam that came off of them… one light brown haired boy's face sweated in excitement. _

"_**WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKHEADS THINK YOU'RE FUCKING DOING?"**_

True I am not the _intellect _I self- proclaim myself in my mind. Especially when I am pissed off.

_I knew who they were. Even if they ran away, I would make sure they were suspended if not facing expulsion from the school. Who knows how long I screamed after them… only my body had the right idea of staying with the child… some poor second year Slytherin. _

_I don't think I would ever be able to outline the disgust that threatened to overcome me…_

_The barely decipherable face .The broken body of a child. _

There is not a sight more horrendous.

_Blood… the skin that wasn't already broken was turning sickly white. I could feel the tears come forth in my eyes. _

_The breathing was slowing down. I could hear it as I stooped to pick up the mangled flesh of a…_

_Child. _

_Just a baby yet. _

_I needed to get him to Madame Pomphrey. But I didn't want to hurt him. _

_I ran. _

_Picked him up and ran as though I had a billion Blast- Ended- Skrewts after me…_

I have never been that scared of a human being before.

* * *

I'm sitting in the Courtyard… staring at my hands. The blood has dried and is flaking off. I don't know how long I was crying and throwing up in the bathroom. Madame Pomphrey took the child from my hands, screaming at me to explain what happened.

I told her about the Ravenclaws.

Professor McGonagall was there within second. Closely followed by Snape.

Interrogating me until my jaw hurt from talking…

They're in there with the entire school; Dumbledore is talking about how such an act is punishable by law.

They let me go.

It was just a _baby._

I still cannot believe it.

It's raining and my clothes are getting soaked.

The blood has moistened and is coming off looking watery.

The fact that a child can be caught up in discriminations, that is a Slytherin… it never occurred to me. it never came to me that Slytherin's were as doomed as us when it came to discriminations.

That we could give the reasons that **_Death Eater's_** exist.

It never occurred to me that _we _could do something like that.

I close my eyes.

Red hair, blue eyes.

Do I not face the same this. To be a _Weasley_ is to marry and have children. Have a career you love but be barely able to but hardly suffice for a family.

To be a _Weasley_ is to love all things Muggle.

To be a _Weasley_ is to be a fool.

Percy was the only Weasley that was different. The only one to break free of the discriminations. The only one to have red hair, brown eyes.

The only one to want to better himself instead of living in a fantasy world.

I open my eyes.

Stare into the face on convention.

And I **_HATE _**it.

* * *

The Ravenclaws are facing a suspension considering that we cannot afford to have more join the Dark Side.

I quite frankly am disgusted by the verdict.

And I'm not afraid to show it.

"Disgusting pieces of shit. You know what we should do to garbage like that? Throw them…"

"RON, SHUT UP!" Hermione was bound to burst at some point.

I look over at her lazily.

"What? I'm just speaking my mind. Surely there is nothing wrong with that."

She looks stunned. I'm using the voice that I usually only ever use when I'm arguing with myself in my mind.

"Besides is it my fault that those assholes decided that some child was a _Death Eater!"_ I spit out the last part. "Was not Pettigrew, the exact person who gave rise to _Voldemort_" at this I have more than half the Great Hall staring at me. "A Fuckin' _Gryffindor!" _

Throwing a look of disgust down the table I see the shocked faces of dozens of students.

"Where is our supposedly _nobility _now?"

I look over at Hermione, her mouth still wide open. I continue with a calmer tone.

"Do you think that you with your Muggleborn background, and I with my poor Muggle lover upbringing, are the only ones who face prejudices? Do you honestly believe that a person can be born to be a _Murderer_, someone can be born only to kill thousands for the sake of something as ridiculous as _bad blood?_"

I can feel my voice change to one filled with sadness.

"Because if you do… then you won't know how to _live _when you see a mere child no older than a baby lying dead on the battlefield. They don't ask to be put in the middle. They don't ask for parents to destroy another human being."

I look down at my goblet.

"People don't ask to kill another human being for a cause as idiotic as something as that. Human conscience won't allow it… children don't go from meaningless laughter to cold and condescending maniacs. They are brainwashed to believe in something that should have died out during the 17th century… but they aren't. We could save them, we could give them a room in our house and give them the childhood they've been neglected… but we don't."

The pumpkin juice in the goblet swirls.

" We come to school with the main purpose that we are _better_, and so we cannot be in Slytherin… no we can't because then you grow up to know the inside walls of Azkaban…"

My eyes fill with unwanted tears.

" Have you ever thought that not even a Slytherin wants to know what it is to have their soul's sucked out by society… have you ever thought that what makes a Slytherin a Slytherin is _us. _That it is us that teaches them to be the cold- hearted murderers their fore father's were. That it is us that makes it impossible for our world to learn the simplest concept that Muggles have known since the Christendom Fell. The thoughts of _Modern Convention_ where we are able to live in the world as people instead as _Witches and Wizards. _

Has it ever come to you that maybe if we didn't hold a family name in high contempt, then maybe we wouldn't have to fight a battle as menial as this.

That we wouldn't have to fight people willing to kill themselves for a cause they don't even believe in themselves. And we could be doing something worthwhile.

Has it ever made you acknowledge the fact that the world we are residing in is concealment for the world that Muggles' rid Germany in the 19th century? That we are nothing better than the Nazi's and the true victims are the children we prosecute, simply because we believe that we can destroy them while they are still able to look in the mirror and see their innocent eyes.

Or do you think it's the other way around… that Voldemort is some Hitler and _we_ are the Stalin's'…"

I look up at Hermione's shocked face.

"Do you know that Stalin murdered more people that were his own then Hitler? Did you know that the only reason that Hitler is considered worse to the Muggles was because he threw those he hated in Death Camps? That Hitler only started to war because his people were starving? Did you know that the only reason the war went on as long as it did was because they brainwashed their children to believe in Hitler's superiority cause's…"

I stop. I can't bring myself to continue.

The Great Hall is deathly silent. Everyone including the teachers has heard my "speech" of sorts.

"I didn't know you thought of it like that…" Her voice is barely above a whisper.

I narrow my eyes and allow my disdain drip its acid on my tongue.

"No you wouldn't. Would you?"

I gather my stuff and leave.

* * *

I'm in my abandoned classroom. Lying here and thinking of nothing.

It's not hard. I like it like this.

To think of nothing is to know of nothing.

Ignorance. There is nothing as peaceful.

The door is slowly creaking open. I won't think on it.

I won't open my eyes to the burning sensation of a touch of flesh upon my skin.

I will not allow myself to see the eyes I never want to see looking at me again.

I won't cry for the uncalled for gentle kisses that are placed in the palm of my hand.

I **_WON'T _**let this turn into some disgusting _romantic _scene.

I allow myself to growl and throw _It's _presence away from me.

I don't even look behind me when it speaks.

"His name was Kyle."

I continue walking.

Out the door.

"_His name was Kyle."_

No…

The tears come and this time they won't stop.

* * *

A/N: I thought that this was a nice twist. It took me awhile to write because I didn't really know how to write Ron's little speech… so anyways… REVIEW. 


	9. I have Fallen Once Again

OK sorry I havent written... been in England and hospitalized (sometimes I think I am as crazy as 

Ron) thank you for the reviews... and so on with the show! 

chapter nine 

**I HAVE FALLEN ONCE AGAIN...**

People never ask me if I'm alright... mostly because if I'm not seething in my own anger or self- pity I am. I know that people think of me as someone who knows not what other's feel. That I am selfish and thus do not pay attention to another person's pain... 

And in a way I think that the exact people who think that know me, as I rarely ever agree to myself that I am... 

Kyle... 

I have a made up fantasy that plays through my mind in which I saved him and remained his hero until the end of days. 

But then I awake from this daydream and realize that I am not the hero... that no one was the hero... 

Because ultimately there is no hero. 

Harry tried to tell me that more than once... I didn't want to listen, because he was everyone's hero. He was even my hero... and I didn't listen to him... 

I haven't listened to alot of people. 

I'm looking out of the train window... just watching the horizons and believing that there might be something worth fighting for. 

It's as if the world has eaten me whole. I feel nothing for anything... yet I feel everything. 

It is as though the earth is a carnivore that eats what it may giving no thoughts to those whose unfortunate luck is to reside in it... 

The trees go by at miles per hour... and I feel a strange peace at myself and I am able to say that the world is not as horrible as it once had been. 

But deep down I am once again dying inside. 

The years of selfishness, where only myself and what I thought mattered existed. But is that not what people now expect of me? To think only of myself and no other. 

Because I wish I were like that... the one who didn't fall in love with Despair and ultimately Death. 

What shall I do when the time to choose whether or not to fall ignorant to the raging in my soul comes? 

Suicide. A disgusting and vile word. 

But to choose Death is so... beautiful. A word is but a word. But an action and concept can be fallen in love with. 

And that is what I have done. 

I am nothing more than what a person of my upbringing despises... the one who knows nothing of eternity yet spends every aching moment trying to analyze it. 

To choose Death. 

Is it so wrong. 

Is the lustrous beauty of it deserving of that word that makes it so violated and thus, filthy as a wanton whore. 

I find that this thinking in my mind is rather soothing to me... in times that the world has vomited its acid into my soul. 

The sins that I have indulged myself in. The flesh that I have tasted as I spiraled into my own tragic demise. 

The train door opens to my cabin, and the warm body of my enemy has seated themselves beside me. 

I try not to think of the sensuous smell. The warm breath that emblazes my neck as a small kiss is placed there... Why is he back? Does he not know that he has destroyed my life in the ways of such torment. That it is he that has given me the reason to find Death so inticing now that my sickness of him is cured? 

Or is it that he meant to hurt me... that he wanted to taste what I had tried so hard not to want. That I fell victim to even as I resisted. 

The world isa sick place. 

For sick people. 

And I want to be cured. 

More kisses on my neck, the soft pale hair lulling my senses. I allow myself to be seduced in my solitude. Knowing that even as this happens I will leave for home to find myself seduced by another vixen... 

My body is inflamed with this passion... this passion that seeks not to be quelled. 

Percy. 

The name and the thought is what I cling to... 

My savior in my Fall of Grace. 

Kisses placed upon my shoulder as I arch my neck baring one of the most sensitive parts of my body. Hands touching every available skin of my body. 

My clothing being no asset to th4e being whose determining whether or not I suffer horrendous torture. 

Sort carnal kisses becoming hard and demanding. 

That silent revelation that I am a possession to be kept and nothing more. 

I feel my organ harden, knowing that if thought could be comprehended I would feel betrayed by my own body. 

The hand has come to the exact part where ragged breaths escaped my lips, my back arching. 

"Tell me what you want." Lips against my ear. 

The skillful hand around my shaft, moving torturously slow. 

"Struggling to keep my eyes from closing in pleasure I manage to choke out. 

"Touch me." The hand squeezes painfully. 

"And?" The lust dripping from the voice is not subtle. 

"Fuck me..." The hand pulls back my foreskin nad moves, milking my organ making me give a throaty moan of longing. I ccome with my cries silenced by his mouth. My own hands clutched to the cushions on the bench. 

Breaking the kiss for desperate oxygen, I allow myself to become limp. 

"I'm going to fuck you until you scream..." 

My eyes snap open as I see the flash of a devilsh smirk. 

The sight of a naked lusturous young man blinds my eye and I am smitten. 

A weeping erection that I touch and love as the sharp breath is drawn. 

I lick my lips and around the cock my mouth goes. Holding the soon to be bucking hips still as I drop from my seat to my knees for more elevation. 

Taking it deep into my throat, I savior the salty bitter taste. Using my tongue to pull back foreskin and run along the bulging vein. 

The hair is being ripped from scalp as mly head is pulled away with much force. 

Knowing what is expected of me, I remove the clothing that is in the way. 

Turning around still on my knees I rest my upper torso on the bench. Spreading my legs. 

I am shocked when I feel some wetness by my opening. Preparing me with his tongue as 

I keen for more. 

Warm and inside me. Pleasure. 

I arch to it. Trying to be quiet, knowlingly failing. 

"Shhh... or do I have to quiet you myself?" 

"Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod.." 

That is all I can say, as I try to stop my spinning conscious. I feel his cock pressing up against my opening. 

Pressing my head into the cushioned bench to stifle my first cry he enters in. Little less than half at first, stretching me painfully. 

Then, as someone who knows my body inside sex... one thrust right to my prostrate. My muffled scream and his grunted groan as I clentch around him. 

Thurst , Thrust and on so as pleasure ovethrows me. 

My organ explodes as I reach my end. The feeling of being filled is dulled by the orgasmic haze. 

A bite on my shoulder... 

And I have Fallen Once Again... 

A/N Yes yes, I had to do a sex scene... on the train... one of my (perverted) dreams of having Ron posistioned. 


	10. They Don't Know

Thank you for reviewing... I just read my own story and to my opinion I'm not a very strong writer... but thank you for being kind. 

Also I would like to say that this chapter is a little distorted. However for those of you who actually like this story, there will be two more chapters.

Chapter Ten

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**They Don't Know**

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Once again the world seems to fall off axis and drop into a deep sea of eternal acid. And I feel as though I'm tumbling over the edge.

_Sex_ on the train? Around _people_?

The thought haunts me.

_Love?_

No I could never love. No matter what risks towards my dignity that idiot ferret puts me through. Though maybe if one day I decide that teenage angst is trivial I could laugh at that scenario.

But I can't not when it is done and I'm sticky and trying desperately to get my clothes on and feel somewhat comfortable. Whilst he is there smirking smugly and completely and utterly in the nude.

I hate him right now.

More than anything in the world or out of it, I hate him for being such an ass...

"What's the matter Ronald?"

Stupid catalytic moron.

Just to wipe off the smirk I say something that I know I will regret later.

"Just wondering whether you like being on top or bottom? Probably bottom you seemed to get a kick out of being dominated by your adversary."

Yes, I know not the best comeback or insult in the world. But I'm not the best when pressure is put on me.

I hate him right now. He's the reason for my downfall and the reason why I feel that darkness that consumes most people. Somehow I know right now that there is no way that I'll be able to pull out of this.

Even as his face contorts in that irritating self- satisfaction smirk that I've grown accustomed to seeing.

I would love to see him _fall._ That is all I am able to wish for right now.

Besides my own demise.

I know that I'm sick… mentally if anything else. And if I am correct so does he.

I stare at his face once more. Stare into that cold hearted ferret's face and allow the loathing that I have grown accustomed to take over on my features.

"I hate you." The acid that spills down my lips is true and more accurate than anything I've yet to utter…

His smile is what infuriates me. And all the hate I feel at myself comes out in full…

I'm on him without any instigation that he is going fight me.

His blood is on my fist smeared all over my hands… but I can't seem to bring myself to care. I can't feel anything but the blinding fury that seeps over my entire body. I don't register that he's still naked and that his flesh is becoming rapidly damp with his own blood. I don't think as he stops struggling… the only thing that goes through my mind is how to rid myself of this deadened feeling and gather life back into me.

Neither curse, nor any Azkaban could ever undo what I've done.

But I don't stop. The crimson stains that appear don't affect me. Because all I see is hatred, lust and the

_Freedom_.

I don't stop.

Won't stop.

* * *

His body was covered in blood and he had been dead by the time people walked into the puddle of blood that managed to seep under the crack of the cabin door.

I was still on top of him beating his mangled flesh more and more.

I can still see the crimson flow from the face that I allowed myself to touch me. I can still feel the once animated limbs flail against my arms…

I can still feel his last breath of life as I beat him. My anger once again taking ahold of me making me into this monster that I've never known.

This monster that was making me kill my deceitful lover.

This monster that is myself and my own Despair.

_But I couldn't._

_I wouldn't.

* * *

_

I have no idea where I am… and in some way I hope to forget who I am. I really don't want to remember what I did. What I've done. The beating. The satisfaction that I finally got what I deserved after the years and months of _torture_.

_I have no idea where I am. _

_I have no idea where he is._

Whether or not I truly snapped or whether or not I've done what had to be done.

A woman has come.

Her face is barely recognizable. The red hair that seems as bright as flames blinds me… and yet I want to cry because of the tears in her eyes. Because she seems so tired and worn as though life has placed to big of a burden on her shoulders. Lines on her once seemingly plump face….

But it is the sadness in her blue eyes that scares me.

"Ron…" So soft and cautious.

_I have no idea where I am. _

I can see the crystal tears fall out of those eyes that seem so familiar.

I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out.

As though my mouth has no idea how to form the words.

I don't know what is going on…. All I know is that I feel this great _foreboding _in the air that I breathe.

"It's OK. Everything's going to be fine." The tone is heightened by her non- belief… I want to believe her though.

The woman is crying again. But I don't want to hold her. I don't want to make the tears stop… because she doesn't know what I feel, she doesn't share my pain. She is not my equal and deserves neither my condolence nor pity. She doesn't know how I am.

_Neither do you._

Back again I see.

_Well I am your mind._

Funny, I keep thinking, or rather hoping that was something I lost.

I don't know what time it is. Or how many days I've spent looking and not really seeing the ceiling.

All I really know is that something is wrong. Something that makes it impossible to sleep. To eat.

To breathe.

* * *

The room I'm in is small. There is no one else in the ward. There are no vials of potions that are suppose to heal the ill… so I suppose that's a good enough sign that I am not ill.

_Physically._

There is a man who comes everyday to talk to me. Sometimes I listen to what he has to say. Other times I just stare at the ceiling and let his words wash over me. I don't really understand what's going on besides the fact that I've been here for over two weeks. That I've done something that cracked me and made me do something really bad.

All there is to know is that I have people who send me 'Get Well' cards and I have no idea what their names are.

The man has a funny mustache and an accent that I have no idea from where. He tells me constantly that I'll remember most of my memories but my mind will block out the more traumatic and the ones that remind me of that experience. He also tells me that I shouldn't expect to heal quickly, it is rare.

The nurse that comes sometimes tells me that I'll be fine and that if I'm good I'll be able to see my family again, and wouldn't that just make me feel better.

I highly doubt it.

They don't think I don't know what's going on. They don't know that the reason I screamed when looking in the mirror was because I saw flames. Red.

_Blood._

Flames engulfing a face. Flames that stood on end with a dangerous glare. Flames that could erupt and destroy everything.

No they don't know.


	11. Into the Abyss

Chapter Eleven

**Into the Abyss.**

The lights have gone out.

Its dark.

I believe I've read somwhere that the darkness comes when evil arrives.

It must've been a good book if I'd bothered to remember it.

When I close my eyes the black disappears and my mind and all of my senses are completely taken over by red flames.

Sometimes I make a picture with these flames. A face with nice familiar features is what I like.

Sometimes I make believe to myself that that face is real and will come and touch my own face. Give me a reason to stop gashing wounds into my flesh until I bleed.

Red Crimson.

The Wine of the Immortal.

My eyes are closed and that face of flames is there. Smiling in a kind sedative smile. Eyes that are clear and normal brown. The way the earth is when I'm taken to walk outside.

Hands that are softer than mine. With the ink-stained delicate fingers.

Lips that should be stern and thin, such as the strict repressed horn-rimmed glasses that rest upon the cheek bones. Lips that are plush red and full, seductive and so completely untainted.

I want to be able to touch this vision and fill it with the filth that is etched on my hands.

There is someone calling me.

They move clumsily in the dark.

I don't really want to think of anything.

So I won't.

I'll sit here until the darkness consumes me.

Works for me.

The lights have come on again.

They blinded me at first.

People were apparently shocked to see me sitting so calmly still and same without a difference as they had left me.

My eyes feel as if they're burning.

There are people trying to explain to me as to why the lights, which are candles went out.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs that I don't care.

But that would require energy that I do not have.

That woman with the red hair is back.

She has that haunted drowning look that I think I share, about her. She seems so sad and troubled, as the awkward silence wehave become accustomed to settles in.

The other people have told me the War has begun. Seeing this disturbed woman proves it.

I venture to ask a question.

"Who are you?"

My vocal cords feel as if they've been oxidized with the lack of use.

She lookes stunned.

"Your mother..." Softly as if breaking a spell.

"...no, who are you?"

Does she even know?

Is she like me?

"I... I... I've never... thought about it before."

She leans toward me.

"Is this why? Why you don't speak, don't eat, don't sleep... because you don't know who you are as a human being?"

I can't help but stare at her.

If that was as simple as what she said I would run into her arms and be a tearful child once again.

I wonder if I ever did that.

She's staring still, waiting for an answer.

"No... I know who I am... I know who I've been... and who I will become. It is not a matter of choice nor that foul 'Fate'..."

My throat tightens.

"... I ... I ... I'm tired."

I wonder if she understands.

She stares at me, then shakes her head. The flames dance and I wish to be dead.

No more words are spoken.

A kiss on the forehead.

An unsaid goodbye.

the man witht the astrained mustache and freaky accent has told me that due to the War-with-the-Death-Eaters, I mustn't stay at St. Mungo's anymore.

I told him I hope that people wouldn't die of laughter when reading the history books on the name.

I recieved a funny look.

I had meant the "War."

The woman or rather "Mother" is here alone to collect me.

She explains that too many different people all at once may rehabilitate me.

I don't care, so I am not bothered.

She tells me that we're going to take a "Portkey"...

Silence. Until I asked

"Is that suppose to get me to reveal some sort- of repressed memory or something? Because its not."

Sarcasm. Like a razorblade for the suicidal.

Her blue eyes narrow. But reaches out to touch me as the clock on the Ward's wall goes insane.

A sudden shift on the earth and it is as though the colours and elements collide together.

When the sensation around my navel and the whirling halts, I stagger and fall flat on my face.

The cool tile feeling wet and sticky makes it apparent I obviously broke something.

It hurts.

It _really _hurts.

Getting up on my feet I sway.

Dizzy.

Pain.

Fuck. No wonder I went crazy.

A/N: To be a bitch, I will not write anymore until I recieve ten more reviews.


	12. The End of Me

Chapter Twelve

**The End of Me.**

A/N: I know I said that I would wait until I recieved ten more reviews but CatC10 convinced me...

Besides I want to start a project on how many hp fics I am able to do before the 6th book is out.

Shateiel.

* * *

Its been less than a week and I hate life more than ever.

I want to just kill myself whilst I have the chance.

I've seen 4 different people.

Very talkative people.

I spend hours counting the layers of dust on books.

That is how my days are spent.

I could kill myself of boredom.

I was told that all of my family was coming to see me. There was to be a banquet so I wouldn't be the centre of attention.

I shrugged and continued reading the most uninteresting book in the history of mankind.

Though now that the time has come for the 'banquet' the nervousness has started to creep in.

I hate the feeling.

People are stating to come in. Glancing nervously at me and slowly mingling together. Needless to say I'm relieved.

Random people have given me smiles and hugged me despite my stiff form. I must clash with myself wearing orange with red hair.

But "Mother" said my favourite colour was orange. So why should I disagree.

Two people ahve been staring at me the entire night. A girl with brown hair and intelligent eyes, and a boy with pitch black hair and emerald green eyes. Cute, both of them. But somehow not what I want.

The night goes on and I lose myself in the gaggle of so many people.

Finally I find the food.

I eat it slowly, reveling in the taste and the fact that I want to stay anti- social.

"You know Ron, I've never seen you eat politely." The black hair boy.

I smirk, " Well, obviously considering going insane I needed to learn a few things about Ethics."

He frowns.

"Harry! Glad you made it!"

I swear everytime they speak the same words at the same time I'm going schitzophenic.

Grinning at him they launch into a conversation that I care nothing about.

Scanning the room my eyes fall onto a man with a stern face across the room talking to a woman with electric blue hair.

My breathing stays.

The face of flames.

"Hey Ron! Where are you going?"

I move towards the closest door.

"... need fresh air."

Need it so bad.

* * *

My lungs hurt with every unneeded deep breath of air I take. But I don't care. I just scared the hell out of myself.

The outside, for its shabbiness, has a calming effect. The too long hedges, and the gnomes that are hiding.

For all the poor gardening, it has a sort-of charming loveliness to it.

I can't help myslef but smile.

Peaceful.

Laying on the grass is probably something that I'll regret later, but I do.

My gaurd is down as the thougts in my mind cease for awhile. Sso I am beyond startled when I sense someone sitting down beside my outstretched body.

I expected it to be the dark-haired boy. But no it isn't.

The brown eyes that stare at me are somewhat charming. It may be just the because of the fact that he's leaning over me.

Looking up into brown eyes I feel as though there is everything that is life in there.

The flush cheeks and fast erratic breathing.

But all I see are lips. As they lean down to touch mine. The world falls behind. For him it is a small brush of lips, before I smash my body up to his. He loses his balance and falls on top of me, his mouth opening to cry out in surprise as I slip my tongue inside.

My arms and legs are around his long body, as if trying to melt our limbs.

If I wasn't crazy than maybe the voice would've embarrassed me too.

"Percy, perhaps it would be best if Ron stayed with you." One of the doubles says. HIs look pierces into my own as "Percy" tries to regain his lost dignity. His flush face and glasses that pained my face are screwed up. He glances at the double and says quietly:

"Are you sure thats a good idea?" Nervous, yet I cannot help but keep touching him. The double nods.

"Harry's told us the entire story. The doctor's say that he likes to draw you... after the whole '_Malfoy_' fiasco I think anything to make Ron, Ron again will be a great thing..."

"Percy" tries to still my hands as they move all over. Succeeds as I satrt planting butterfly kisses on his neck.

"...you don't hate me?" Sad, I want him to be happy as I glare at the double.

The double stares a t me, as I continue to ignore the struggle of will plaguing "Percy". Starting to kiss along his jawline.

"... no Percy. The windows aren't exactly blackened out. We seen Ron's insistance."

I smile into my kiss on the side of his mouth.

I barely claim his lips again before he leans back and asks in a squeaky voice.

"To my flat? Alone? But..." Worried red eyebrows furrow.

I touch the flames on his head. Watching them slide between my fingers...

"Percy. He's not a damned china doll, just take him now and we'll see you for dinner tomorrow."

"...how?"

"Apparate, idiot."

"Percy's" adam's apple bobs as he nods. Standing up and taking me with him. Finally he puts his arms around me, and his lips are mine again.

There's that shifting world again.

But my Flames, saves me before I fall.

Once again we are alone, his arms arms tighten and he responds to me. His tongue dancing with mine.

After awhile he detaches himself. Breathing heavily and looking into my eyes he tugs mw into a room on my right with a single bed, and a closet.

I start to take off my Muggle clothes. soon standing naked infront of Percy. Since he hadn't moved to take off his robes I start to. Receiving hands worshiping my flesh. Kisses on my shoulders, as I finally reach his drawers.

I gasp as he pinches a nipple.

My hand on the waistband pulling it down and freeing his member. I am pushed to the bed, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing his torso I hear him moan.

I need him to fill the empty gap in my soul.

"Take me."

Another gulp and a nod. Whispered spell, trembling body.

As he slips into me, I'm in ecstasy. Bucking to impale myself further I take him all. He screams slightly and I smile again.

Thrusts, cries and declarations of Love.

We become one.

I bite his neck and tell him that I'm his.

"...and I am yours."

He fills me with a scream that echoes.

I ride out my own orgasm. Until I tighten around him and he comes again.

Sleep overrides the exhaustion and sweaty air around us.

I dream sweet dreams of War and the pain I so desperately need.

_Le Fin...

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_

A/N: I know I know... could've been better and gory and more realistic... and it was hurried, but seeing as how Ron has an obsession with his brother and is not a virgin I thought it wouldn't be really anything.


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